


Pull Me Through

by oatoakhay



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Everyone Is Gay, Insecurity, M/M, Massage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Profanity, Slice of Life, Slowest Burn, all kinds of untagged idol cameos sorry not sorry, not sure where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oatoakhay/pseuds/oatoakhay
Summary: This is a story about how Kyungsoo's life is a big old mess, and slowly gets sorted.





	1. Party Favors

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first fic ever and I have no idea where it's going or how long it's going to be. Thanks for reading! I'll try and update regularly.

The advantage of working at an extremely profitable and prestigious law firm, Kyungsoo thinks, is that sometimes you end up in really fancy places. 

The ballroom that the firm has reserved for its Christmas party is large and decorated in a way that indicates it’s been hired out. No interns or law clerks struggled with those wreaths and the twinkling lights are cleverly wound about the windows and fake trees so that the cords are nearly invisible. There’s an open bar, and he can already see some of his coworkers taking advantage of the situation, although the partners and associates seem to be acting with more moderation. So far. The night is young, and Kyungsoo doesn’t intend to be around to watch his superiors eventually make asses of themselves. Neither does he intend to start any incidents himself. 

Kyungsoo contents himself with walking around, glass of stupidly expensive champagne in hand, making chit-chat with the other law clerks and the occasional aside to an associate who notices him. It’s awkward at best. Kyungsoo is 30 years old, and one of the oldest law clerks at the firm. Theoretically, a law clerk is only supposed to be in the job for a couple years at most, before going on to an associate’s position. Here at the firm, however, there’s a different practice. Kim & Kim law clerks are never hired on as associates – they’re sent out into the wide world afterwards to get some real-life experience. Kim associates are only hired from the outside, and because the firm is so prestigious, only the cream of the crop of practicing attorneys are hired on. In theory, being a law clerk at Kim means you’ve got an easy in wherever you want to go; but Kyungsoo has been here for five years and not only is he not sure where he wants to go, but the lack of responses to his job applications over the past year seems to indicate that everyone else in the world is clearly aware of that fact. 

It’s slightly embarrassing, having been at this job longer than expected and having no prospects. In fact, it’s really embarrassing. And while he has some folks at the firm he’s friendly with, none of them are his colleagues – he’s much more likely to be found with one of the firm’s permanently-retained stenographers or the paralegals than with one of the other law clerks. Not that there’s anything wrong with them; it’s just hard to be genuinely friendly when there’s clearly cutthroat competition to get the best post-clerkship positions and Kyungsoo is just as clearly not even in the competition. It makes lunches stilted. 

All this stressful bullshit wanders through Kyungsoo’s mind as he winds his way around the tables, set with gleaming flatware as though people are actually going to sit down and converse instead of picking up bites of food and eating as they walk and talk. Kyungsoo wonders how long he has to be here before he can be thought of as fulfilling his duty to the firm. There’s a new book waiting for him at home, and solid comfort food instead of the frou-frou “deconstructed this with some foam of that other thing”. 

Someone does the silverware-on-glass clink to signal a toast, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether to groan or to cheer. One of the partners will be speaking now. On the one hand, this will likely be a really pompous and long-winded speech; on the other hand, once the speech is over he can probably make a discreet exit and not get burned for it at work later on. Kyungsoo settles in a corner, his champagne mostly gone, and braces himself. At least he’ll be able to laugh about the speech later with Baekhyun. 

Kyungsoo is surprised to see that it’s Kim Jongdae who steps up to the podium at the front of the ballroom. Usually it’s Kim Junmyeon, who will make a flowery motivational speech about how we all look out for each other and uphold the reputation of the firm by doing excellent work, blah blah blah, teamwork and company spirit and by then most of the folks are appearing to watch but have actually tuned out. Jongdae is slimmer and more energetic, but also sharper in personality. Kyungsoo has never seen him make a speech to the firm before, so at least this will be interesting. 

Jongdae has dressed fairly conservatively in a black suit with a subtle windowpane check, but he’s wearing a monstrosity of a tie with a horrid pattern of what looks like bees or flowers or something. Kyungsoo wonders whether he lost a bet or he’s just got terrible taste in ties. Jongdae grins and grabs the microphone.

“Well, everyone, it’s been a wonderful year for the firm. I trust that everyone will continue to work hard and continue that trend into the new year. As some of you may know, this is our firm’s 10-year anniversary. Some of our clients have provided us with congratulatory gifts, and the firm has decided that this is a good occasion to share the wealth, as it were. “ Jongdae gestures to the two sides of the room.

“Now on the east side of the room, you’ll see a large silver box. And on the west side, there’s a glass bowl. Both of them have envelopes inside. Associates, please draw from the silver box. Law clerks, draw from the glass bowl. These are your year-end gifts from the firm. Feel free to trade them amongst yourselves if you draw one that is not to your taste, but please only take one envelope. Let’s be hardworking and successful in the new year. Speech over – back to the party!”

That was weird. Kyungsoo has never heard a speech that short, and he’s also pretty certain that it’s not exactly on the white-hat side of the law to be accepting Christmas gifts from clients, but if the partners have okayed it it’s probably been run by some sort of review board or something. And he knows that it is okay to distribute year-end bonuses for your employees. The firm does it every year. Kyungsoo isn’t sure whether the prize to draw is in lieu of or in addition to the bonus check he’d been expecting, and frankly, he hopes to open his envelope and just find a check in there rather than like, a coupon for some smoothies or something. He considers just not getting an envelope, but this firm (like any other, he assumes) is gossipy as hell and they’ll definitely notice an envelope left behind at the end of the night, so he lines up with the other clerks and dutifully fishes his prize out of the bowl. 

Sealed envelope in hand, he beelines as quietly as possible for the exit.


	2. The Worst Bonus

A frustrating hour on the subway later, Kyungsoo arrives back at his apartment complex, envelope stashed haphazardly in his trouser pocket. The elevator ride seems like it takes longer than usual, and by the time he reaches his floor Kyungsoo feels like he’s shrunk a couple inches from the sheer need to no longer be upright. He punches his four-digit security code into the keypad and slouches through the door. Home, sweet home. 

Of course, Baekhyun is already here. He regrets giving his best friend the code to his apartment sometimes. Lots of times. But it was an undeniable fact that working as a law clerk earned him much more than Baekhyun’s work writing (not particularly well renowned) romance novels, so his apartment had also become Baekhyun’s part-time “writing” retreat. Kyungsoo’s place isn’t anything particularly fancy, but he has a separate bedroom and kitchen and living room. That living room is currently adorned with a dirty pair of Baekhyun’s socks, which reside in a place of glory on the couch, while Baekhyun himself hunches in the chair to its left. A half-eaten bag of Doritos has fallen over next to the chair, and the television is on.

“Productive day, huh?” 

A groan comes from the lump on the chair and a chip flies through the air towards Kyungsoo’s face. Apparently, things are not going well. Deciding that for now, discretion is the better part of valor, Kyungsoo retreats into his bedroom and changes into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. After that, though, there’s nothing left to be accomplished in here. Time to face the beast. He returns to the living room.

Baekhyun is now sprawled over the chair and swinging his feet. Apparently Kyungsoo’s near-death by flying nacho projectile has elevated his mood. “Play with me, I’m frustrated!” he demands as a video game controller is produced from the depths of the chair and chucked towards the couch. 

“Don’t you have any other friends?” Kyungsoo gingerly picks up the controller, which now boasts a slight patina of Dorito dust.

“None that live in this apartment, and I’m not moving. Entertain me.”

Kyungsoo gives in to the inevitable. They settle into their seats and before they know it, it’s been half an hour and Baekhyun has completely walloped Kyungsoo. Baekhyun smirks and they switch the channel over to a drama. 

“Oh, hey, tonight was your thing, right? How’d that work out for you?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Same shit, different year. Loads of people who make more money than I am doing more important things than I do, and a bunch of younger clerks all barreling towards shitfaced as fast as possible.” 

“Was the food and alcohol at least decent?”

“Of course they served quality stuff – oh, yeah, and they did this new weird gift thing. We each drew a random envelope.” Kyungsoo thinks about the sad wad of envelope still in his trouser pocket in his closet.

“What’d you get then?”

“Dunno. Haven’t opened it yet.”

“Dude, why the hell not? You make a livable salary but come on, life is all about the side benefits!” Before Kyungsoo can say anything, Baekhyun is off the couch and trotting towards Kyungsoo’s bedroom. Knowing Baekhyun, he’s going to rummage through everything Kyungsoo owns until he finds that envelope, so Kyungsoo decides to cut that disaster off at the pass. 

“Black suit pant pockets!” he shouts. There are a couple of suspicious thumps from the bedroom – Kyungsoo knows better than to ask about that sort of thing – and Baekhyun emerges victorious, envelope clutched in his hand. 

“Loot acquired!” he says, and hums the victory theme from Final Fantasy. If Kyungsoo could roll his eyes any further they’d fall straight out of his head. Baekhyun plops back down on the couch and basically shreds the envelope to get at what’s inside. Little pieces of envelope paper flutter down to the floor. Kyungsoo thinks about needing to vacuum again tomorrow and sighs internally. 

“…Massage!” Baekhyun crows, brandishing a printout of what appears to be some sort of gift receipt. “That’s five free hour-long massage sessions, and god knows if anyone needs to unclench it’s you.” 

Kyungsoo freezes. He’s never had a massage. He’s never wanted a massage. It never really entered his mind as a thing that, like, non-rich people without copious free time did. Isn’t it a little creepy giving something like that to an employee? What are the HR ramifications? Aren’t massages, like, insanely expensive? Why would you give a gift that large to a law clerk? 

Apparently Baekhyun can see Kyungsoo’s brain approaching short-circuit because he whips out his phone and starts talking. “I bet this is a new place, and they were able to get these sessions on the cheap. It’s good advertising, and people really care about personal recommendations for bodywork.” He taps at the phone. “Yeah, it looks like this is a pretty new outfit – the page has only been up for about six months. They have a promo page, too, with sales and things. They’ve got decent reviews on social media, too. Not so many that it looks like they’re paying for them, not so few that it seems like nobody goes there. I think you should go for it. Stop freaking out. Lots of people get massages, it’s like yoga but without the work.” 

Kyungsoo’s eyes must look slightly less glazed by now. Baekhyun stops talking and hands over the sheet of paper. It has the name of the spa (is it a spa if they only do massage and acupuncture?), the address, and a notation for the number of sessions (oh god what if he does a session and it’s the worst?) with scrawled writing on the bottom that says PAID IN FULL. There doesn’t seem to be an expiration date. 

Kyungsoo stares at the receipt for about thirty seconds before he decides that he is just going to Not Deal With This right now. He gets up and puts it next to his keys by the door and then silently returns to the couch. 

Baekhyun may be overly familiar and ridiculously talkative, but he is not stupid. He watches Kyungsoo’s face as he sits back down, and turns to flip the drama back on.


	3. Office Politics

The weekend passed without another mention of the voucher currently taped to Kyungsoo’s fridge, but it’s Monday now, and lunchtime. This conversation was inevitable. The tall, ridiculously angular man sitting across from Kyungsoo in the cafeteria leans forward like a bloodhound who scented fox. His black hair is stylishly slicked up off of his forehead and he’s wearing outlandishly fashionable (and probably expensive) clothing. Kyungsoo, who does not enjoy being cross-examined, uncharitably thinks he looks a little bit like a caricature. 

“Come on, Soo. You know I already know. You all got swag as part of your Christmas bonus. Now spill. What’d you get? I hear Irene got tickets to the opera.” 

Sehun is quite possibly the most efficient gossip collector that Kyungsoo has ever met. Any news, any rumors, any speculation that anyone ever mentioned out loud in the office eventually made its way to Sehun. Office romances, power struggles between the associates, even internal position changes all seemed to filter through Sehun before they became official knowledge. He probably knew what was going to happen at the party before anyone other than the partners. 

Kyungsoo takes a little bit of pride in being neat and tidy, and standing out embarrasses him, so the heat he can already feel in his cheeks and ears only makes him flush harder. 

“…Massage sessions.” He mumbles as quietly as possible, hunching a little. Normal people probably would have had trouble catching that, but Sehun’s job as a stenographer has blessed him with both acutely sensitive ears and the ability to read lips a little. He cocks an eyebrow at Kyungsoo.

“Why on Earth are you acting so embarrassed about that? That’s an awesome bonus!” Sehun’s eyes narrow. “Wait...you don’t think they’d give you a voucher to, like, a happy ending place or something, right? You know they wouldn’t!”

Kyungsoo had not considered that option. But now the thought is in his brain and he wants to die a little. Stupid Sehun. Stupid partners. What even is this life? He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, pretty sure that it’s going to be a while before he can look either of the partners in the eye again. _Obviously_ that is not the case. (Besides, even if it was, Baekhyun would have found out about it and probably immediately died laughing.)

“No, of course not. It just seems … hinky. Like a real personal gift to give to someone random? And I’ve never had a massage before. But it would be rude to not accept, so…” he trails off.

Sehun drums his fingers on the table to catch Kyungsoo’s attention. “Dude. They’re awesome. I get massages regularly.”

“Really?” Kyungsoo still can’t see the point of it. If he wanted to get naked and have someone rub him he’d get a boyfriend. In theory.

“Dude. How many of us stenographers do you know? We all do it. Have you seen a court reporter with more than 10 years under their belt who doesn’t have carpal tunnel syndrome? Our generation is learning from their experience. You have to take good care of your body, and massage is a great tool for that.” Sehun narrows his eyes at Kyungsoo. “Don’t think you’re an exception, either. I see you hunched over that keyboard all day.”

Kyungsoo meditatively chews on a piece of radish kimchi as he thinks about Sehun’s point. It seemed like Baekhyun didn’t think any of this was weird, either. Maybe he was overreacting to this whole situation. And it was inevitable that if he didn’t redeem the voucher, word would get around. Sehun would never rat him out, but people talked, and Kyungsoo was struggling too hard to get a new job to put his current one in any jeopardy at all. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and set an appointment. 

The thought sticks with him as he returns to his desk early and starts flipping through his to-do list. He keeps one for work, and one for the things he needs to do on his personal time. He’s about to add a note to book one of the massage sessions to his personal list when an associate zooms by his desk, talking at about eight thousand miles an hour.

“I need a case, probably from about five years ago … the point was witness housing and it had something to do with a taekwondo tournament and the hotels being booked. Get it for me.” And like a fart in the wind, he’s gone, leaving nothing but Kyungsoo’s horror behind. Sometimes this job really sucks. 

Twenty frantic minutes of database searching and four hours of more respectably paced work later, Kyungsoo is officially off duty. He promises himself he will call and make the first massage appointment once he gets home.


	4. The Setup

Promising himself he would make the appointment at home and actually making it are two different things. Kyungsoo picks up the voucher and looks at the phone number. He gets about six digits into dialing it before he realizes that he’s going to have to pick both a date and a time. 

Frankly, from what Sehun said, it sounded like a massage would be most effective if he booked it for right after work, when he’d been in front of the computer all day. But on the other hand, there was literally no way of knowing which particular work day (if any) he’d be leaving the office on time, unless he looked at the office calendar to see when there was some sort of event after work. Kyungsoo was damn good at his job, but the associates and partners either had no concept of the fact that demands made at the last minute of the official work day meant that law clerks didn’t get to go home on time, or they just didn’t care. Kyungsoo’s supervising associate was particularly bad about that. 

He guesses he could book an appointment on the weekend, instead…

He pulls up the spa’s website on his phone and looks for their operating hours. They’re closed on Mondays. Kyungsoo supposes that makes sense - if it’s a small clinic they probably have a lot more requested appointments on the weekend, and everyone’s got to have a day off sometimes, right? 

His phone blinks with a notification that he’s received a new e-mail. Deciding to just set a weekend appointment if he can, Kyungsoo tabs over to his e-mail app. 

It’s a form rejection for a job he applied for a couple weeks ago. An unintentionally heavy sigh escapes him. Although he kind of expected this would be coming, it always surprises him how much it _stings_. But there’s nothing to be done about it, and Kyungsoo is not going to dwell on shit that clearly didn’t work out. He squares his shoulders and dials the number on his voucher. 

“Garden Retreat Bodywork, how can I help you?” The man’s voice is smooth, neither particularly high nor low. Kyungsoo was expecting the phone to ring at least once more before anyone answered, so there’s a particularly embarrassing pause while he has to collect his wits. 

“I… have a voucher.” Kyungsoo hates how his voice raises at the end of that sentence, turning it into a question even though he is actually holding the stupid voucher in his hand and can verify that he does, in fact, have it. He shakes his head and it settles him a little. “I’d like to book a session, please.” There. That was normal and not nearly as ridiculous as his first statement. 

“Of course, sir. Are you looking to book an appointment for acupuncture or massage therapy?” The voice has almost no inflection to it. It’s the most perfect example of Customer Service Voice that Kyungsoo has heard in a while. He’s mildly impressed. 

“Oh, massage, please. A one-hour session.” The sounds of clicking keys come through the phone and Kyungsoo waits patiently. The awkward part is over now – at least for this stage. 

The warm, calm voice offers him a choice of three of the soonest available sessions. Kyungsoo has given up on the thought of trying to work this in around his office schedule, so he picks a Saturday at 10AM. With a few more generic pleasantries and confirmation of his personal details and voucher number, the phone call is over. 

_I guess we’ll see how this goes_ , Kyungsoo thinks to himself.


	5. A New Start

Kyungsoo walks like he’s got a purpose, like he thinks he would be walking if he were ever to actually practice law in a courtroom – determined, focused… oh, shit, he’s walked a clear block past the building thinking about how he was walking. Way to make that confident move, Kyungsoo. He turns around and walks back to where he meant to be with a mental sigh. 

The storefront itself is rather unimposing, with clean windows and a fairly modest sign. A bell tinkles in a way Kyungsoo supposes is intended to feel soothing as he opens the door and steps inside. The door opens into a shallow but long room painted in carefully neutral colors. There’s slow instrumental music playing at a low volume. An empty reception desk sits at the far end of the room, past some chairs and end tables. Or at least, it looked like an empty desk – because now a head rises above the top of the desk and Kyungsoo hears that voice from the phone earlier mutter “ _Gotcha_ ” in satisfaction. 

The receptionist appears to be about Kyungsoo’s age, maybe a little younger. Even as he rises from under the desk and slouches back into his seat, he is obviously a lot taller than Kyungsoo. His brown hair is disheveled and he looks a little sleepy, almost as if he’d been taking a nap underneath the desk and had woken up just because of Kyungsoo’s appointment. Now that he’s back in his chair, Kyungsoo notices the pen clutched in his fist. It’s got a cap on it shaped like a bear’s head. He twirls it.

Kyungsoo clears his throat and walks up to the desk, and the receptionist startles, almost dropping the pen again. His face quickly snaps from a totally startled expression into one that is so neutrally pleasant Kyungsoo almost wants to applaud. Customer Service Face to go with the Customer Service Voice he uses on the phone. The bear pen is a little ridiculous, though.

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?” 

He’s good looking. But Kyungsoo’s a lot harder to intimidate when faced with someone holding a bear pen. 

“I have a massage appointment at ten. Do Kyungsoo.” The bear pen twirls some more as the receptionist – his name tag says Jongin – flips open an appointment book and slides his finger down the page. 

“Yes, sir, please have a seat and your session will begin shortly. Would you like some water or tea?” 

Kyungsoo thinks quickly. If he drinks something now, he might have to pee in the middle of the massage or something. Best not to tempt fate. He shakes his head and moves to sit in one of the chairs. It’s not particularly comfortable, and he fidgets a little. 

A few minutes go by. Kyungsoo curses himself internally for being neurotic about showing up early. If he hadn’t filled out his medical information online after he booked the appointment, at least he’d have some paperwork to do. He catches Jongin looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and not wanting to look too freaked out, he settles his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression and tries not to think too hard. 

Luckily for Kyungsoo, Jongin is not a liar. Kyungsoo only needs to sit and awkwardly suffer for another minute before another tall man walks through a doorway into the lounge and beelines right towards him. He’s good-looking, too (is “tall and handsome” a requirement to work here? Is this like the massage clinic dude version of Hooters or something?), and he smiles widely as he introduces himself. His grin is so sunshiney Kyungsoo is actually a little concerned for his mental well-being. 

“Good morning,” he says, “my name is Chanyeol. You’re Kyungsoo, right?” He sticks his hand out. Kyungsoo realizes he’s still sitting, like an asshole, so he bolts up and thrusts his hand forward, eventually grabbing Chanyeol’s and shaking it kind of awkwardly. 

Kyungsoo’s natural state, if he’s not with his friends (and sometimes even when he is), is Preemptively Sick of Your Shit. So he’s not that great with what he thinks of as _that small-talk crap_ , and he isn’t quite sure how to interact with Chanyeol. Who, by the way, is rocking back and forth on his feet like he just chased a Red Bull with a bottle of 5-Hour Energy. In the face of such overwhelming enthusiasm, Kyungsoo gives up and decides to just go with the flow. 

“Hi. Yeah, Kyungsoo.” 

Kyungsoo kicks himself a little for being so abrupt, but Chanyeol seems to take it in stride, turning and gesturing towards the small door with that same big smile. He’s almost obscenely friendly-looking. Kyungsoo notices that his ears stick out a little. It only makes him look nicer, which is weird, since Kyungsoo doesn’t generally judge character based on ear shape. Kyungsoo follows him through the door.

It opens into a stubby hallway. Clearly this isn’t a large building, although they have more room than Kyungsoo would have predicted from the size of the storefront. There are at least six doors leading off of the hallway, and Chanyeol leads him through the second door on the right. 

This room, like the hallways, is painted an incredibly neutral (boring) shade of taupe. Instead of the insipid flute music that Kyungsoo was expecting based on some blog posts he’d read (what, research is important), there’s what sounds like soft jazz playing. Jazz isn’t Kyungsoo’s preference, but the examples of music he’d listened to while he was figuring out how today might go had both annoyed him and produced a headache, so he’s relieved that the flutes are nowhere to be heard. 

In the center of a room is a table. It looks enough like the exam tables at a doctor’s office that Kyungsoo can’t help but side-eye it a little, but it’s covered in what appears to be a fluffy blanket and a sheet or two. Ringing the room, next to the walls, are various tables holding bottles of stuff Kyungsoo can’t identify. There’s also a desk-and-sink area, which again reminds Kyungsoo of a medical office, and then two chairs and a stool with wheels. Chanyeol pulls out one of the chairs and indicates that Kyungsoo should sit, then plops himself into the chair next to it, long limbs just kind of going wherever. 

On the countertop near the sink is a folder. Chanyeol grabs it and a pen and opens it up, then faces Kyungsoo. He’s still smiling, but it looks a little softer now.

“All right, Kyungsoo, before we get started I just want to go over a few things with you. I know you’ve never been here before, since we keep client records, but have you ever had a massage before at all?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head no, and hopes he doesn’t look as embarrassed or lost as he feels. Chanyeol doesn’t react other than to jot a note down before he continues.

“Okay. I see you’ve already filled out all your medical records, thanks for that, but there are a couple other things I want to know before we get started, and then I’ll explain the process, okay?”

Kyungsoo’s pretty sure he saw a porno that started like this, and he is not here for that, but he nods on the off chance that Chanyeol is actually intending to ask him normal questions and is not a creep. Oh, god, what if thinking like this means Kyungsoo is the creep? Stupid brain, why did you even come along?

Chanyeol clicks the pen a couple of times. Kyungsoo’s pretty sure that was a discreet way of getting his attention back, and he’s quietly grateful. 

“Okay. First, are there any areas where you feel particularly tense right now?”

Kyungsoo draws a blank. He’s never really thought about it unless he’s actively in pain, and right now he’s not. He can’t tell whether he’s tense. I mean, probably, right, but he’s a stressball normally so how would he even tell the difference?

“Um, I don’t think so.” Chanyeol writes a note and nods his head, still smiling.

“Sounds good. Is there anywhere in particular you want me to focus on during our session today?” 

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “You’re the expert in this, I guess. I’ll leave it to you.” Another nod, another note, and Chanyeol is moving on. 

“We offer aromatherapy during sessions, if you would like, at no extra charge. Is that something you’d want to try out, and if so what kind of scents do you like?”

Kyungsoo thinks a little. He tries to wear subtle or no cologne at work, since clerks are supposed to be unobtrusive and he doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s smelly. “I like spicy scents, I guess. Peppers, cooking spices, earthy smells?” If Chanyeol can do something with that information, Kyungsoo is fine with it, since it’s free. If not, he won’t be really disappointed. Aromatherapy doesn’t really strike him as particularly useful anyway, but he guesses it’d be better than sterile room scent.

“Okay, last question!” Chanyeol grins. His voice is a little louder than Kyungsoo thinks it probably should be, given that this is supposed to be a place where people come to relax. Hopefully nobody is in the adjacent rooms, because he bets these walls are paper thin. “Any places you’re more sensitive or ticklish that I should know about?”

Kyungsoo’s train of thought cuts away for a second to that porno he thought about earlier and now he’s a little uncomfortable, in a not good way, but he reminds himself that it’s his own brain’s fault. Shake it off, Kyungsoo, let’s please be normal for five damn minutes. 

Chanyeol is still smiling at him, waiting for an answer. “Um, my feet are a little ticklish, I guess? So hard pressure would be better there?” Kyungsoo makes a game attempt to look less awkward than he feels. Chanyeol’s smile gets even wider, which Kyungsoo was pretty sure was not a physical possibility, and he writes something down and then sets the folder back by the sink. He leans a little forward towards Kyungsoo.

“So, in just a second I’m going to step out of the room. I’ll try and make up an aromatherapy blend that you’ll like. While I’m doing that, you can undress as much as you’re comfortable, and then I’ll ask you to lie face down on the massage table.”

Chanyeol stands up and moves towards the table, which Kyungsoo can now see has a weird little padded circular thing at the end. “This is for your head.” Chanyeol pulls back the blanket and one sheet and shows Kyungsoo the sheet underneath. “You can slip right in between here. I’ll knock before I come back in. If you aren’t ready yet, just let me know and I’ll give you more time. Sound okay?”

For all his enthusiasm, Chanyeol has been nothing but professional throughout this whole conversation, and the fact that he’s taking the time to make sure Kyungsoo knows what’s going to be happening is reassuring. Kyungsoo nods, and waits in his chair for the door to click closed behind Chanyeol.


	6. Touched Out

This is really happening, and now Kyungsoo isn’t quite sure how he wants to handle it. He’s here, and Chanyeol isn’t creepy or gross, but now Kyungsoo has to make decisions. Obviously he’s going to take off his actual clothes, but does he take off the underwear? He’s wearing boxer briefs because that’s all he owns, and he picked ones with shorter leg length, but if he takes them off that would probably be better in terms of getting to the muscles in his thighs. On the other hand, if he takes them off, that’s his dick and balls just hanging out there. What if he gets an accidental boner or something? That would be awkward for everyone. 

He sends a quick text to Baekhyun, because although Kyungsoo is a stressball he is also self-aware enough to realize when he’s seriously overthinking things. And because Baekhyun is probably still on his couch refusing to be an adult, Kyungsoo gets a reply text within thirty seconds, telling him to “take them off, moron, you probably aren’t even the weirdest thing he’s seen this morning” along with an eggplant emoji. Why is he friends with Baekhyun again?

But his tension is broken a little thanks to the eyeroll that he can clearly hear through Baekhyun’s text, and the reminder that Chanyeol probably has to deal with some pretty gross stuff without batting an eye is a little reassuring as well. Kyungsoo shucks his clothes, folding them neatly, and then tucks his underwear inside his jeans. Then, as quick as he can, he climbs on to the table and pulls the sheet-and-blanket layer over him. He puts his face on the weird padded circle and finds that it fits, although it feels kind of stupid. There’s a hole in the middle, so he can see the floor beneath him.

It’s a little strange, lying facedown on a table, waiting for a stranger to come in and mess with your body. Kyungsoo distracts himself by focusing on the room around him. The sheet and blankets are surprisingly soft, and a little heavy. He wonders exactly what they’re made of, and whether they were expensive – he would have imagined that a small start-up business like this wouldn’t be able to afford real luxury linens. He wriggles his body a little bit towards the end of the table – that actually makes the headrest feel a little more natural – and notices that the table is heated. There’s a little cushion down at the bottom for him to hook his ankles over, too, so his feet aren’t awkwardly extended. It’s pretty comfy. Kyungsoo thinks that maybe he could fall asleep here if he were left alone long enough –

Two brisk raps echo on the door. Kyungsoo startles, but still manages to say “Come in”, glad his face isn’t showing because it’s probably pretty red. 

His relief is short-lived, though, because suddenly Chanyeol is sitting on the floor beneath and in front of him, cross-legged, with a little tray of bottles and cotton bits on his lap. He gives Kyungsoo that gigantic smile again and waves a little. Kyungsoo cannot even begin to process what is happening right now. Chanyeol picks up what looks like a piece of cotton with a small tweezers, and holds it up to Kyungsoo’s nose. 

“What do you think of this one?” he says. Kyungsoo is struggling to comprehend the fact that he’s lying naked on a table with a totally clothed dude holding up cotton balls to his face like they’re flowers or something, but he closes his eyes and takes a sniff. 

It’s actually kind of decent. Spicy, like he said, and kind of foody. Forgetting that Chanyeol is probably staring at his face like a kindergartner showing off macaroni art, Kyungsoo smiles. He inhales again. Kyungsoo cooks at home, when he has the time, and so he can pull out the scents of nutmeg and pepper. There’s something else there that he can’t place, something warm and comforting. It goes really well with the soft blankets and the warmth of the table. 

“Looks like we have a winner!” Chanyeol crows. Kyungsoo keeps his eyes shut. Shit, he forgot Chanyeol was down there. Hopefully he didn’t make some sort of weird facial expression. A bunch of scuffling noises come from under Kyungsoo’s face. Chanyeol must be standing up. 

There are some clinking noises over from the sink area, but Kyungsoo doesn’t have time to become alarmed because Chanyeol is talking, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let up anytime soon. He focuses in on the middle of Chanyeol’s sentence.

“ – and bergamot, too, which is fun because it’s also used in tea. I haven’t really studied aromatherapy, and it’s not something I focus on in my work, but I think people are more comfortable when they smell something good. I personally like orange flower and rose, but pepper’s great too. I just don’t think there’s any use in getting a massage if you’re in an environment that tenses you back up again just as soon as I stop working on you –“

Kyungsoo has decided that Chanyeol is A Chatter, and he’s kind of comfortable with that. It’s clear that no response is expected from him, and even though normally he’d be irritated that someone kept talking at him, the constant stream of sound makes the fact that this random dude is about to slap oil all over his body in an attempt to unfuck his muscular system a little less intimidating. 

“ – it’s probably got something to do with the way I really liked ferrets as a kid – “

Chanyeol is making no attempt to be even a little bit formal. Kyungsoo catches himself relaxing a little and mentally praises himself, then goes back to listening to Chanyeol, who has apparently derailed his monologue train. He’s over on the far side of the room, on Kyungsoo’s left, and is making absolutely no attempt to do whatever it is he’s doing quietly. There’s the sounds of various things being shuffled around, and Chanyeol is humming along with the music a little. Kyungsoo imagines him doing jazz hands with the massage oil and tries really hard not to snort at the mental image. 

After a minute or so, Chanyeol starts talking again, only this time he’s clearly expecting that Kyungsoo is listening to him.

“So, Kyungsoo, I’ve put out some of that scent that you liked around the room. If it’s too much, or you can’t smell it at all, let me know and I’ll adjust it. Now that we’ve got the preliminaries out of the way, we’ll get started with the actual massage. If I ever do something you dislike, or aren’t comfortable with, or the pressure is too much or not enough, please let me know. If I’m moving around I’ll make sure to keep a hand on you so you always know where I’m going, and there won’t be any surprises. Okay?”

Kyungsoo realizes he can’t nod because his face is in this stupid ring thing, so he kind of awkwardly shuffles his arm out from under the blanket and gives a thumbs-up. He hears Chanyeol move around his head and stop near his shoulder, on the right side. “Okay, we’ll get started.”

A pair of what feel like very large hands press between Kyungsoo’s shoulder blades. The blanket and sheet are still covering him to nearly the bottom of his neck, so the pressure is dull. Kyungsoo wonders if this is what a thundershirt feels like for a dog, all comforting weight and heat. The pressure moves down his back, never lifting, and then moves back up and starts again. Kyungsoo can’t really say that he feels it relaxing his muscles or anything, but it feels nice. 

The pressure stops. It feels like Chanyeol is just touching with his fingertips as his hands move to Kyungsoo’s arms. This must be what Chanyeol meant when he said Kyungsoo would always know where he was going. Once he reaches Kyungsoo’s arms, the full pressure returns and slides down towards Kyungsoo’s wrist. One repetition, and Chanyeol moves his hands back up and peels the blanket down, so that the fold rests across Kyungsoo’s hips. 

The cold is a little startling – apparently that blanket was warmer than Kyungsoo thought – and the blanket feels a little lower than he would have placed it himself, but Kyungsoo decides that honestly, he’s not the expert here, so he isn’t going to complain unless Chanyeol gets weird about it. But he definitely notices. 

Chanyeol’s hands are large. Kyungsoo isn’t sure why he didn’t notice earlier, when they were shaking hands, but rationalizes that he was so stressed at the time it’s a wonder he’s retained Chanyeol’s name at all. The oil he’s using feels light, and less greasy than Kyungsoo expected. Chanyeol runs his hands lightly down Kyungsoo’s right side, one hand after the other, then switches to the left side and gives it the same treatment. It feels nice, but it’s not exactly what Kyungsoo was expecting based on the conversation he had with Sehun (or that one erotic story he’d read that involved a masseuse, with all the descriptions of muscle knots cracking loose). 

Then Chanyeol returns his hands to Kyungsoo’s right side, and begins to do the same hand-over-hand stroke, only with more pressure, and now Kyungsoo understands that before was just the warm-up, and this is the real deal. He can’t feel anything cracking or anything, but he can definitely feel that Chanyeol is moving his muscles around. After two rounds on each side, Chanyeol begins to do what, if he were a cat, Kyungsoo would call kneading. Kyungsoo wonders what the relative benefits and drawbacks of each type of stroke are, and then realizes he’s seriously overcomplicating this whole damn process – deciding that is Chanyeol’s job, not his – and does his best to try and shut his brain off. 

Chanyeol works on his lower and middle back, which feels nice, and then moves to his arms. Massage on his biceps is also nice, but then Chanyeol gets to his forearms and holy shit that’s amazing. Kyungsoo’s brain overloads as he tries to make a quick assessment to determine whether this is a “this is a turn-on” situation or whether it just feels good, and he fairly quickly comes to the conclusion that no, this just feels _really fucking good_ , and if Chanyeol decided to never stop that would be totally fine. He could just move in here, no big deal. Chanyeol probably doesn’t need to sleep anyway.

Chanyeol moves on too soon for Kyungsoo’s taste and starts in on his shoulders. Kyungsoo expects more of the same treatment as his back, but then Chanyeol kneads a little near the top of his shoulder blade and Kyungsoo winces and makes an involuntary “hngh” sound. Immediately, Chanyeol stops and checks in with him, fingertips still lightly on Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“Are you okay? You’ve got a pretty decent knot going there. Want me to move on, lighten up and take more time with it, or try and work it out normally?”

“Um.” Is Kyungsoo’s helpful reply, as he attempts to process. Now he understands all that stuff about knots that came up when he researched massages, and it seems like everyone agrees that it’s better once they’re gone. Logically, Kyungsoo understands why that would be the case, but that was fucking unpleasant and he’s not sure he wants to keep going with it.

It’s the thought of Baekhyun calling him a wuss for backing out that triggers a decision. “Keep going, do what you need to do.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t start moving his hands again right away; instead he moves around so he’s standing above Kyungsoo’s head, his left hand a warm pressure over the painful area, and places his right hand on Kyungsoo’s left shoulder in the same place. For a short period of time, he just applies pressure through the flat of his hands. It’s not painful at all, and Kyungsoo can feel himself relax a little. He must have tensed his whole body when Chanyeol hit the knot the first time. 

Chanyeol leans over Kyungsoo, which surprises him a little. He’s even more surprised when Chanyeol places his forearms next to Kyungsoo’s spine like he’s leaning on a goddamn desk, and then presses, slowly moving out towards his sides. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as Kyungsoo thought it would, and it actually feels pretty great. 

After working on Kyungsoo’s back some more, Chanyeol raises the blankets back up to his shoulders. Keeping his hand on Kyungsoo as he goes, Chanyeol moves down past Kyungsoo’s hip. His hand stays politically correct, and winds around to Kyungsoo’s actual hip instead of brushing over his ass, and Kyungsoo tries not to obviously heave a sigh of relief. 

While he’s distracted by not being groped, Chanyeol pulls the sheet off of Kyungsoo’s right foot and folds it back over itself in a kind of triangle, exposing Kyungsoo’s leg. He then tucks the part of the sheet still over Kyungsoo’s ass (well, most of it, anyway, and Kyungsoo isn’t quite sure how to feel about that) in underneath his hip so he isn’t butt-out naked on the table. He then repeats the same motions he used on Kyungsoo’s arms to massage his legs. Kyungsoo is a little surprised that the effects are so similar – yeah, the thigh massage is nice and all, but hot damn does it feel good to get a calf rub. Weird.

Chanyeol does eventually get up to Kyungsoo’s ass – sort of. He stays very platonically on the area right on the outside by Kyungsoo’s hip. There’s actually something there that Kyungsoo thinks might have eventually become a knot if this massage wasn’t happening, and getting rid of it feels much better than trying to get rid of the actual knot on his shoulder did. Maybe he’s been sitting funny at work or something. Chanyeol tucks Kyungsoo’s leg back under the blanket and moves around to his left side.

After giving Kyungsoo’s left leg the same treatment as his right, Chanyeol fixes the blanket and moves up to Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He lifts the blanket off Kyungsoo and holds it slightly above his body.

“Okay, Kyungsoo, I’m going to ask you to turn over now, okay? Scoot down a little, so your head is on the table.” Kyungsoo squirms onto his side and looks up as he ungracefully rolls over onto his back. Chanyeol is resolutely staring at the wall past Kyungsoo’s feet, making it very obvious that he isn’t peeking inappropriately, but he’s still got a pleasant smile on his face. 

Kyungsoo inches his way down the table until his head has something to rest on, taking stock of his body as he goes. Please no awkward boner, please no awkward boner...success. He wonders whether that sort of thing happens to Chanyeol a lot, and how he would deal with it. Kyungsoo’s pretty sure that he would have to leave the room and be embarrassed on the person’s behalf for a while before resuming, so Chanyeol is probably a better person than he is. 

Chanyeol moves around to the top of the table, by Kyungsoo’s head. He starts on his shoulders, thumbs on the top and fingers digging in underneath. It feels nice, and Kyungsoo closes his eyes and relaxes into it. Then Chanyeol moves to Kyungsoo’s neck, thumbs at the base and pulling up, and this is heaven and Kyungsoo is seriously just going to move in here. This is his table now. 

Kyungsoo remembers being younger, and how, while he was never really outgoing or social, he was a lot more touchy with his friends of both genders. Skinship was a fairly common part of their day and he didn’t realize until now how much he misses being touched. Chanyeol has stopped using his thumbs and is doing more of that soft movement around his neck and over his scalp, and it’s very much like the way his friends used to show affection for each other. Kyungsoo realizes that if he thinks about this much more, he’s going to be sad, so it’s best to block that avenue of thought off at the pass and just focus on enjoying what’s happening now, so he does it as best he can. 

Not too long after, Chanyeol moves entirely away from Kyungsoo, and says quietly, “How are you feeling?” Kyungsoo opens his eyes, and Chanyeol has stepped over towards the door and is standing with his hands behind his back. Kyungsoo quickly takes stock of his body.

“Good, thanks.” It’s true. He had been expecting something that would rock his world and make him more aware of his body, and that didn’t happen, but there were parts of the massage that felt really great. He has no regrets, and is a little surprised to find he has already made up his mind to use the rest of the sessions he’s been gifted. Chanyeol grins. “Good, I’m glad. I’m going to step outside and get you something to drink. When you’re ready, get dressed and come on out, and we’ll chat a little bit before you go.” He turns and walks out the door, closing it behind him softly. 

Kyungsoo swings his legs off the table and stands up. He tests his range of motion by rolling his shoulders. He doesn’t feel that much different, but he’s in a pretty good mood, which has been getting rarer and rarer these days, and he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He runs his hands over his arms. He’s not as greasy as he was afraid he might be, which is great, because he doesn’t have that much casual clothing and he’d prefer not to ruin what he does have with slimy oil. This feels like he’ll be able to run his clothes through the wash and they’ll come out just fine. Kyungsoo gets dressed quickly and neatly, and runs his fingers through his hair before he opens the door. 

When Kyungsoo peeks out the door, Chanyeol is there with a paper cup of something and that same goofy giant grin on his face. He offers the cup to Kyungsoo, who takes it gingerly. “It’s just water,” Chanyeol says, “with a little bit of electrolytes added in. No flavor.” Kyungsoo takes a sip, and it really does just taste like water, so he downs the whole thing even though he isn’t really thirsty. It would be rude not to. Chanyeol takes the cup back from him and crumples it in one hand as he begins to talk again.

“So it seems like you hunch a lot at work – you should try and keep your posture upright as much as you can, and that will help your back out. I would also recommend maybe doing calf stretches if you can, since your calves are a little tight. Is there anything that you would like to ask me, or any feedback you want to give?” 

Kyungsoo can’t think of anything, and he feels awfully put on the spot. He shakes his head, and Chanyeol’s grin seems to falter a little bit, so he tries to soften it by smiling. He did have a good time – he just doesn’t know enough to give any kind of feedback about this. Then it hits him; there is one thing he can say. “The aromatherapy did smell very good.”

Smile back in full force. Success; Kyungsoo has not permanently traumatized his massage therapist. Chanyeol escorts him to the front lobby and tells him to have a good rest of the day.


	7. Out of Sorts

Kyungsoo wakes up on Monday, more than a week later, and realizes that he’s sick. The pressure in his head is so severe that he can barely hear, and his teeth ache. His nose is running, he’s sneezed five times already, and when he tries to blow his nose it bleeds for two minutes before he can get it to stop. Kyungsoo walks to the bathroom to try and get some cold medicine. He doesn’t have to leave for work for another hour; maybe he can medicate himself into productivity. On the way back to his bed he stops in the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and moves a dish into the sink. Baekhyun must have put it there last night before he left. 

When Kyungsoo finally reaches the haven of his bed, he realizes that just that little bit of exertion has made him sweat. Clearly he should not be going in to work today. He winces at the thought of calling in sick. Kyungsoo does not call in sick unless he is really, really unwell; he knows he doesn’t have to worry about his boss believing him. He is supervised by one of the associates in particular, although any of them can make a request of him at any time and if “his” associate is out he’ll be reassigned for the day. Kyungsoo has a pretty good reputation and knows that he’s good at his job. He’s not worried about being fired or reprimanded for this; he just knows that without him at work things are going to be hard for the rest of his team. And some other law clerk is going to have to deal with his boss, who is nice overall, but is also both technologically incompetent and deals poorly with stress of any kind. 

Kyungsoo calls the sick line and leaves a detailed message about his associate’s schedule for the day, then leaves his phone number as well just in case. His associate and the rest of the team (their designated paralegal and support staff) all have Kyungsoo’s personal number, but it never hurts to be overly cautious. He then remotes into his work e-mail account and checks for any urgent messages. His associate is going to start a nasty divorce trial today, and he wants to make sure that he gets as much squared away remotely as he possibly can. 

His inbox is overflowing; law clerks are the point contact people for their associates so he’s used to having at least thirty unread messages in his inbox every Monday, and Kyungsoo keeps old e-mails longer than he probably should, just in case he needs them. Among the miscellaneous messages is an e-mail from opposing counsel; it is addressed to the Judge and to Kyungsoo, and contains a last-minute set of exhibits for the upcoming trial. It looks like it hit his inbox late on Saturday night. Kyungsoo forwards it to his associate, and then sends a group text to his associate and the paralegal that he is ill and cannot come in to work. 

He logs off, his head hits the pillow, and he doesn’t know anything else for several hours. 

When he wakes up, the first thing Kyungsoo does is check his phone for a response to the text about his illness. There isn’t one, which is a little odd; generally his associate tells him to keep the fuck away until he’s not contagious anymore (only in more professional language). And their paralegal, Soonkyu, usually sends a “get better!” cheer-up message. Kyungsoo is a little concerned that maybe they didn’t get his text and are now wondering if he’s playing hooky without calling in. 

He remotes into his work e-mail again. There are a handful of messages from administrative staff, and some from other law clerks, but what catches his eye is a reply from his associate to the e-mail from opposing counsel that he’d forwarded that morning. It’s short and brusque.

_Kyungsoo –_

_It is unacceptable that opposing counsel is sending this e-mail to you and not to me. I could have prepped a response to this on Saturday, but instead I have to do it at the last minute._

_\- Siwon_

Kyungsoo is surprised by how visceral his reaction to the e-mail is as he slams down the cover on his laptop, throws it to the corner of his bed (which has several pillows; he’s angry, not stupid), and decides to call in sick to work tomorrow just for the goddamn principle of it. Not only has he always drafted notices to opposing counsel that instruct them to use his associate’s business e-mail for communication, but Siwon is constantly telling opposing counsel to “send it to my law clerk.” Kyungsoo is not psychic and cannot mentally compel opposing counsel to use Siwon’s e-mail, nor is he going to pipe up in mediations and settlement conferences to directly contradict his associate. Kyungsoo is only to blame in that he was not checking his work e-mail at 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday, and let’s be frank, he doesn’t get paid well enough to do that. He turns over, stuffs his face into a pillow, and falls back into a slightly fevered slumber.

Kyungsoo is still sick the next day. It’s like the universe is backing his play, and he calls in sick again without a hint of the guilt he usually feels. 

When he remotes into his e-mail later that morning, he sees an e-mail from Siwon offering to bring him soup and telling him to take all the sick time he needs. Kyungsoo is not stupid; he knows that Siwon will never apologise for the asshole e-mail he sent the day before. And Kyungsoo also knows himself well enough to be aware that he’s just going to take what Siwon dishes out until he has a new job lined up. The only escape from this sort of blowout, which seems to happen fairly consistently, is to get out as quickly as possible. 

(Kyungsoo sends a text to Soonkyu that afternoon, asking how Monday went. The only response he gets is a crying emoji.)

The next day Kyungsoo returns to work. The e-mail incident is never mentioned again. Kyungsoo feels his shoulder blades drawing tighter towards each other as he sits at his keyboard. The ache doesn’t dissipate until after he’s finished dinner at home. 

It’s not nearly as much of a challenge to book a second massage session.


	8. Improvements and Inertia

Now that he’s been here before, Kyungsoo finds the atmosphere at Garden Retreat a lot less stressful, but he’s still not sure how he’s supposed to interact with everyone there. He attempts to smile a little as he checks in with Jongin (who again looks like he’s about to fall asleep – does he just live here all day and never get to bed?) and goes to sit in the waiting area. 

Someone else saunters through the door from the back area, catching Kyungsoo’s eye. It’s not Chanyeol. This new person is attractive and about Chanyeol’s height, and for fuck’s sake it’s like this entire place was set up to remind Kyungsoo that he’s short and hasn’t been to the gym in longer than he’s willing to admit. This is not how he wanted to start this morning, feeling insecure about himself before getting naked. And now he’s thinking about being unattractively naked and this mystery dude is wandering towards him with his stupidly sharp jawline and what looks suspiciously like a smirk on his face. Kyungsoo would like to secede from this whole plane of existence and be adopted by one that has a very comfy bed and nobody to bother him, thanks. 

Oh, no. The new person is actually walking up TO Kyungsoo, not just being attractive in his general vicinity. This is not what Kyungsoo signed up for. Actually – thinking back – he never made a point of requesting that his appointment be with Chanyeol, did he? Goddammit. 

A hand stuck out towards him snaps Kyungsoo back to reality. He looks up at this new person, who’s got an eyebrow cocked like he’s already decided something about Kyungsoo and it’s probably not pleasant. “Kyungsoo, right?” 

The only thing Kyungsoo can do is stand up and shake hands. This is apparently a trend with him and he’s uncomfortable about it. “Yes.”

“I’m Tao. Chanyeol is in another appointment that’s running a little late, so he asked me to bring you back to the room instead of having you wait out here in the lobby.” Tao pumps Kyungsoo’s hand once as he talks, then turns and walks back towards the door, clearly expecting Kyungsoo to follow. It works, and Kyungsoo tries not to shudder at the visceral wave of relief he feels that Tao is not going to be working with him today. 

Kyungsoo ends up in the same room as before. Clearly Tao is not one for small talk, as he doesn’t say much after introducing himself, simply opening the door for Kyungsoo and closing it behind him with a “Chanyeol will be with you shortly.” 

Kyungsoo plops himself in the chair by the sink where he sat last time he was here, and briefly fights with himself about what he should do while waiting for Chanyeol. If he was supposed to get undressed and on the table, Tao probably would have told him, right? Would it be rude to pull out his phone and use the wi-fi while he waits? Probably not, right, because he can’t do anything until Chanyeol gets here. Kyungsoo opens up his SNS. He doesn’t post very often, because he doesn’t really have a lot to say, but he enjoys seeing what other people are talking about. 

A thread about someone being awful on a plane (shocking) and one other about puppies (adorable), and there’s a knock on the door. After Kyungsoo says “come in”, it swings open and Chanyeol sticks his head around, grinning as he comes in and closing the door behind him. 

“Hey, Kyungsoo. Sorry I’m running a little late. I just wanted to touch base real quick before we get started – is there anything special you want to work on today?” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Not particularly. Last time was great, so I was thinking we’d just do the same, unless you notice something wrong?”

Chanyeol nods. His hair flops a little in his face as he does it. Kyungsoo tries not to obviously look at it, and is surprised when he realizes how much less anxious he is now that Chanyeol is back. “Okay, then I’ll step out and grab some supplies. If you want to hop on the table, we’ll get started in just a minute!” 

The door slams behind him. It’s like Chanyeol is operating with an extra battery pack or something; he probably didn’t even realize how much energy he put into closing the door. Kyungsoo shucks off his clothes, folding them on the chair, and gets on the table. As he once again puts his face into that ring pillow (it never gets less ridiculous), he realizes he’s smiling.

Chanyeol knocks loudly on the door, then swings it open after Kyungsoo makes a noise that he later will remember contained exactly zero words and was basically unintelligible. Well done, super smart lawyer brain. Just like before, Chanyeol sits down beneath where Kyungsoo’s face pokes through the headrest and holds up a cotton ball for his approval.

“I tried something different today. What do you think? If you hate it, we can go back to the original.” 

This new scent still has a little bit of that foody smell, the pepper and nutmeg that he remembers, but it’s fainter beneath the scent of what appears to be basically a whole forest. It’s pretty different than the first scent, but it’s pleasant in a way that trips that same part of Kyungsoo’s brain that says “relax”. 

“It’s different, but good.” Kyungsoo smiles at Chanyeol and hopes that the headrest isn’t doing ridiculous things to his facial expressions. Chanyeol scoots away from under Kyungsoo’s face and stands up awkwardly. He drops a couple other cotton balls as he does so, and Kyungsoo wonders whether they were failed attempts to find a good scent blend or if Chanyeol just routinely carries them in his pockets in case an essential oil wanders by.

The woody, spicy scent spreads through the room, and Chanyeol turns on some ambient music. It’s closer to what Kyungsoo was expecting the first time he came in for a massage, only there are no ear-piercing pan flutes. It’s not awful, and Chanyeol keeps it at a fairly low volume. He must prefer the jazz. Kyungsoo wonders if some other client complained and they had to change the music because of it. 

The massage starts out the same way as before – Chanyeol’s hands moving over the blanket first, then peeling it down to work on Kyungsoo’s back. Without really thinking about it (because he wouldn’t have done it if he’d thought about it first), Kyungsoo says “that feels awesome” as Chanyeol presses the pad of his thumb on Kyungsoo’s back and drags it through his ribs. 

“Good!” Chanyeol’s voice is still probably more enthusiastic than it should be based on the atmosphere set by the mood music and aromatherapy, but Kyungsoo finds it kind of entertaining. 

Apparently Kyungsoo’s comment has opened the floodgates. As he works over Kyungsoo’s back (that shoulder knot hasn’t come back, thank goodness), Chanyeol chatters about anything and everything that comes into his head. Kyungsoo listens more tolerantly than he generally would for anyone else, and finds himself smiling when Chanyeol gets excited talking about American music (“Chainsmokers” doesn’t really sound that appealing as a band name to Kyungsoo, but Americans are weird), movies he’s watched (Kyungsoo doesn’t recognize any of the names, but then he never goes to the theater), and games he’s played. Before he knows it, Chanyeol is holding up the sheet and Kyungsoo turns over, only slightly more gracefully than last time. 

When Chanyeol goes to move Kyungsoo’s arm and get a good grip on his forearm, Kyungsoo’s shoulder joint pops. Chanyeol’s mouth drops open and he quickly – but carefully – puts Kyungsoo’s arm down. Kyungsoo, who actually has his eyes open just now because the faces Chanyeol makes when he’s excited are just as fun as the stories themselves, sees the panic in Chanyeol’s eyes and rotates his shoulder just as Chanyeol picks his jaw up off the floor and starts talking.

“Oh my god, are you okay, I’m so sorry –“

_snap._

Chanyeol’s eyes go even wider. Kyungsoo did not think that was possible, but apparently he has underestimated the powerful combination of terror and guilt. Doing it again was probably the wrong way to reassure Chanyeol. Crap. Again with the really good tactical choices, Kyungsoo. 

“Don’t worry, it happens all the time. I rolled over funny once as a baby and now it just pops a lot. It doesn’t hurt, and there’s nothing wrong with the joint. It’s just noisy.”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows have become one with his hairline. Kyungsoo smiles in what he hopes is an _I’m-sorry-and-also-not-a-frightening-medical-anomaly-I-promise_ way and waggles his arm, which does not crack again. “See? It’s fine.”

Chanyeol moves to hold Kyungsoo’s forearm again, but his touch is a lot more tentative this time. Kyungsoo feels awful now. Clearly the first noise wasn’t his fault, but the second one certainly didn’t help things either. He’s going to actually have to attempt to have serious direct conversation about this, otherwise for the rest of his sessions here he’s going to end up with Tao doing probably frightening things to him instead of actually relaxing with Chanyeol. 

“Seriously, Chanyeol. It’s not an actual medical issue. I just have a noisy shoulder. If I didn’t like the way you worked, I wouldn’t have made a follow-up appointment. I promise.” Kyungsoo tries to smile reassuringly. It’s not an expression he makes particularly often, so he’s not sure it comes out correctly. He probably looks awkward and condescending. Kyungsoo breaks the look and stares in the general direction of his feet. Well, that’s one more person on the planet he’s going to have to avoid for the rest of his life. Only a little awkward that he’s still got a grip on Kyungsoo’s forearm, but nobody avoids conflict like Do Kyungsoo. He can get through this. 

Kyungsoo chances another look back up at Chanyeol. He looks a little less worried, and though he doesn’t make eye contact with Kyungsoo again, he starts back in with the forearm massage. It’s just as awesome this time as it was last time, and even though Kyungsoo feels really off-kilter (when did someone talking to him become so normal, so reassuring?), he can’t help but close his eyes and smile a little from the sheer physical relief. 

Chanyeol moves over to Kyungsoo’s other forearm. His touch here is a little less hesitant than it was before, which Kyungsoo takes to mean he’s been at least a little successful at defusing the situation that he bungled so bad earlier. Kyungsoo relaxes a little bit more. 

The rest of the massage is silent. The awkwardness hovers over Kyungsoo like a cloud – clearly he has royally fucked up, and he has no idea how to fix this situation. Chanyeol gives him a few tips about his posture and what Kyungsoo is pretty sure are canned comments after the massage, and as he walks out the front door Kyungsoo is embarrassed by his cowardice in letting this atmosphere continue.


	9. Temporary Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late - I've been struggling with writer's block something fierce. Hopefully it won't take this long again before Chapter 10 is ready!

It’s frustrating to Kyungsoo that he made it through 30 years of life without ever getting a massage, and now that the last one went so awry he feels more stressed than he ever has. He finds himself more and more frustrated with Soonkyu’s chatter with her fellow paralegals and his tolerance for Siwon’s need for technological hand-holding has dropped even below what Kyungsoo thought was his rock bottom. Even worse, the fact that Kyungsoo is self-aware enough to know that he’s more irritable than usual doesn’t seem to correlate with an ability to exercise some emotional restraint. 

It doesn’t help that there has been absolutely zero progress in the job hunt situation. Kyungsoo has gotten less selective, applying to places that would constitute a pay cut for him, for positions in areas of law he’s not super interested in but thinks that he’s qualified for, but it seems that his career potential can be encompassed by the sounds of crickets. When Kyungsoo had started job hunting a year and a half ago, he had naively assumed that it was only a matter of time until he got a job that he wouldn’t be embarrassed to disclose during social events. Now it seems like every other e-mail he gets is just another message that he isn’t good enough, that he isn’t doing things correctly, that nobody wants him. He can tell that Siwon is itching to have him gone as well – not for any personal or professional reasons, but because Siwon is a firm believer in the interchangeability of law clerks for learning purposes, and Kyungsoo has already been in this position much longer than expected. 

In fact, Kyungsoo has gotten desperate enough to ask people in his outer social circle for advice. He was hoping someone would be able to tell him what, exactly, he was doing wrong – because surely he must be; he’s still job hunting after over a year – but all he’s gotten have been contradictory answers and conflicting advice. He should write an article; he should volunteer. He should do pro bono work (Kyungsoo’s actually pretty sure he’s not allowed to moonlight); he should take night classes and get certified in something to shore up his resume. He can see what the benefit to each suggestion might be, but none of them are practical. He needs a new job _now_ , not after taking a year to get onto a committee or build a reputation for volunteering or research and write a legal article. And taking additional classes is just ludicrous. Kyungsoo is already drowning in debt from becoming an attorney in the first place, even if he had the time to take the classes. Which, again, he doesn’t. 

So that’s the cake, and this weirdness that happened with Chanyeol last time is just the shitty icing on top. Kyungsoo knows that something’s got to give, but he’s never been good at career strategy and he certainly doesn’t know how to apologise to a massage therapist for having an incredible lack of social skills. It’s a toss-up as to which problem would be less emotionally shitty to solve first.

Kyungsoo takes two more weeks of acting normally to think about his options. He figures that if he gets a new job right away, maybe he either won’t have to redeem the rest of the package or can come back and be all excited about his new job at Chanyeol and maybe pretend like that awkwardness never happened. That works sometimes, right?

The two weeks drag past. Kyungsoo has no success in scoring an interview. He’s contacted by a headhunter, and gets excited, only to learn that it’s a 6-month contract position, which means he would have no benefits and wouldn’t be there long enough to gain relevant experience to propel him into the next job.

Siwon is driving him completely insane, having what Kyungsoo thinks of as tantrums on an almost daily basis. It’s bad enough that he’s pretty sure Soonkyu is job-hunting as well, and her job (unlike Kyungsoo’s) is supposed to be permanent. Sehun took a deposition with Siwon on a bad day and wouldn’t shut up about what a whiny man-baby Siwon was. It still comes up when Kyungsoo mentions his job hunt offhandedly during after-work drinks. Kyungsoo would feel bad about shit-talking behind his boss’ back, but at this point it’s either confide in his closest friends or go noisily insane. So Kyungsoo grits his teeth and does what he did towards the end of his time at the Judicial Research and Training Institute: he applies to every fucking job he sees that he thinks he might have a reasonable shot at getting. He lucked out then and got a spot at Kim and Kim, which in retrospect is kind of confusing. But maybe he’ll luck out this time too. It’s not like he hasn’t been busting his ass here, doesn’t deserve a job that he actually likes where his boss is not, as Baekhyun puts it, “B-A-N-A-N-A-S” (with an ass shake. Goddamn Baekhyun). 

The applications roll out. Rejections flow back in. Kyungsoo apparently meets no minimum requirements for any attorney positions. Siwon’s sulking continues without end. Kyungsoo comes into the office after a meeting and sees Soonkyu subtly wiping her eyes after an hour of Siwon’s hostile silent treatment. If Kyungsoo’s blood pressure were a thermometer, it would be doing that stupid cartoon thing where the mercury rises to the top and then it swells and explodes. Something has to give. And if it’s not going to be the job hunt, then fuck it; it’ll have to be Chanyeol. He can’t live like this.

It’s been two and a half months. Kyungsoo calls and talks with Jongin, who apparently remembers him. That’s kind of sweet. It actually makes Kyungsoo a little less mad about the state of his life in general, which is unexpected. He doesn’t really think of himself as a people person. The surprise frees him up enough that he makes some lighthearted chitchat with Jongin before they get to setting a new appointment. Kyungsoo makes a point of requesting Chanyeol. They probably have a note in his file already that he’s only ever seen Chanyeol, but after the Incident (and also meeting Tao, because yikes) Kyungsoo intends to be very clear about what he wants out of his few remaining massage sessions. 

And then he's going in.


	10. The Lion In Its Den

Jongin is at his desk when Kyungsoo walks in for his appointment. This time, instead of Customer Service Face, Kyungsoo gets a genuine smile from Jongin. It makes him even more adorable. Kyungsoo smiles back, grateful that there’s at least one person here that he hasn’t committed unintentional social suicide in front of. He checks in and then sits down, mind whirling as he thinks about what could happen today – how he wants things to end up – and what might be the best way to get there. 

Chanyeol comes out from the back to get Kyungsoo himself this time, instead of sending Tao. Kyungsoo briefly entertains the thought that maybe he made a snap judgment about Tao being terrifying, then decides not to worry about it anymore, since it’s clearly not an issue right now. He’ll take it up when he has to; he’s got too much going on right now dealing with Chanyeol. Who, by the way, is smiling at Kyungsoo – is it as bright as it was before? Are things okay now? Does Kyungsoo not have to do anything to apologise for the admittedly ridiculous gaffe he committed last time he was here? It’s been more than a month; maybe Chanyeol has memory problems. Or drinks so much he loses whole days’ worth of memories. Or can’t tell his clients apart. (Kyungsoo’s actually pretty sure that last one, at least, is untrue.)

In any case, Chanyeol brings Kyungsoo back to the same room they were in for his first massage session. He doesn’t seem that different as he asks what Kyungsoo thinks of as ‘the regular questions’ – any sore spots, anything in particular to deal with – and leaves Kyungsoo to undress and get on the table. 

There isn’t a pillow thing on the table this time, for him to hook his ankles over. That’s a little different, but the warmth of the table heater and the heavy weight of the blanket are just the same. Kyungsoo knows he’s fretting, maybe unnecessarily, but he wishes that there was a blinking sign over Chanyeol’s head or something that would tell him whether they were okay or not. And now that Kyungsoo is thinking about it, isn’t it a little pathetic that he’s so worried about whether his massage therapist, who probably couldn’t give two shits about him, is upset about something he did? Isn’t that giving himself more importance in Chanyeol’s universe than he really deserves, and being kind of presumptuous about it? If Chanyeol’s in some kind of mood, it probably has nothing to do with him anyway.

But what if it does? 

The music is just guitar instrumentals, and Kyungsoo would normally find it to be pretty neutral if not relaxing, but he can feel himself getting tenser as his brain apparently decides that the best way to exist on this planet is to tie itself up in as many emotional knots as is metaphysically possible. It’s almost a relief when he hears the knock on the door and Chanyeol walks in. At least now he’ll have something else to focus on. 

“Oh, you don’t have a bolster for under your ankles. Would you like one?”

Kyungsoo, whose brain is still trying to fight itself over whether someone else’s emotional state is happening or not, makes the executive decision to be as undemanding as is humanly possible. “I’m good, but thank you for the offer.”

He actually kind of would have liked the bolster (so that’s what it’s called) now that he thinks about it, but he’s not going to say anything now that he’s already declined. Someone needs to just hit him in the back of the head with a whiffle bat until he calms the hell down and starts thinking straight again. Whatever. We’re going with “completely undemanding and inoffensive customer”, that’s the play, just roll with it, Kyungsoo. 

There’s a little pause, almost like Chanyeol is thinking really hard. Then he says, “Okay. I was thinking maybe we’d try something a little different, massage-wise. I brought in the same aromatherapy stuff we used for your first session, does that sound all right? You look a little off-kilter.”

How the hell does someone look off-kilter on a massage table? Maybe Jongin noticed something and ratted him out. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Crap. Is this because of the shoulder thing? What’s going on?

Chanyeol makes the same noises he always does, moving around the table, and the cotton ball that’s waved under Kyungsoo’s face is indeed the same scent as Chanyeol used during their first session together. Maybe this is just a normal thing, like Chanyeol learned a new technique and wants to use it, or maybe the way he’s lying on the table makes his back look totally fucked up. 

The massage starts the same way it always has – Chanyeol’s large hands bearing down on Kyungsoo’s back, shoulders, a diffuse pressure that feels more comforting than anything else. Then Chanyeol peels back the blanket, folding it down low over Kyungsoo’s hips, and this is how he remembers this, too, and it’s not frightening at all, not new or strange, and he can feel a little bit of the tension bleed out of his body. 

When Chanyeol first starts the actual massage, Kyungsoo still doesn’t notice anything different, which is a little confusing to him – didn’t Chanyeol say they were going to do something new? But then Chanyeol takes his hands away, and when they come back there is way more massage oil on his back than there ever has been before, and it’s slick and kind of greasy and Kyungsoo is lying there wondering why – until Chanyeol hits his shoulder, works it over with his hands twice, like usual, and then starts doing _things_ with his thumbs. Kyungsoo couldn’t say exactly what Chanyeol is doing, but it feels like he’s tracing lines over Kyungsoo’s shoulder-blades over and over with his thumbs and things keep feeling like they’re going _twang_. Kyungsoo is pretty sure shit in his shoulder-blades should not go twang. That is not a thing. Clearly his body is more fucked up than he thought. The twanging feels awesome, though, so he’s not going to complain about this change in technique. 

Chanyeol still isn’t talking, though. Kyungsoo is concerned. Usually by this time there’s a soothing wash of low-pitched chatter buzzing in his ears, but it’s just the guitars. Kyungsoo suddenly dislikes guitars. 

“How is the pressure? Are you doing okay?” 

Well, Kyungsoo will take what he can get. “It’s perfect. I like this new technique.” 

Ugh, this conversation is so bland Kyungsoo wants to die. He’s not used to doing the conversational heavy lifting in this room and he can’t think of a good way to kick-start Chanyeol back into the talkative person Kyungsoo is starting to realize was a large reason he relaxes during these sessions. 

“Oh, BALLS!” 

Both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol jump in surprise at the shout, turning to look at the wall on the right side of the room. Kyungsoo thinks to himself that he was right about how thin these walls are, and before he knows it, he’s dropped his head back down and is laughing to himself quietly, shoulders shaking on the table as he tries not to make a spectacle of himself giggling at the word “balls” like some preteen. 

He hears Chanyeol snort above his head, then clear his throat like he’s trying to pretend he didn’t laugh either. “Sorry,” he says, his voice still a little unsteady. “Sounds like Tao may have had some kind of issue.”

Kyungsoo has clearly misjudged Tao. He can’t be too scary if he goes around a spa yelling semi-profanity regularly enough that his coworkers can identify him by shout. He makes a valiant effort to stop snickering long enough to say “No problem, it’s fine”, but he’s pretty sure his voice gives it away.

“Tao is the reason companies put warning labels on things.” Chanyeol starts. “He’s already broken four bottles this month, and we keep having to re-sterilize things because he drops them on the ground. He cut himself on a lampshade last week.” There’s humor and also affection in his tone. It seems like he and Tao are friends. 

Kyungsoo is so glad Chanyeol is talking again that he continues the conversation without even thinking about it. “We’ve got one of those in our office, too. Jaejoong ate a whole ghost pepper about a month ago just to see what would happen. I didn’t stick around to see how it ended but I hear they had to pay the cleaning staff extra.” 

“Yikes, sounds rough. Where do you work again?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t like to name-drop his firm, and he worries a little bit about people thinking he’s arrogant if he calls himself a lawyer when he’s really only a law clerk, but he made it through school and training, so by god he’s earned it. “I work at a law firm, I’m an attorney.”

“Oh, interesting. Do you like it?”

Such an innocent question, and Kyungsoo can’t figure out how to answer it. Legal work swings wildly between fascinating and boring as shit. Kyungsoo is good at his job, and he likes being good at his job, but he’s also got that ever-increasing sense that if he doesn’t get out yesterday he’s going to have some sort of massive health problem and die. But that’s kind of a heavy load to dump on some poor unsuspecting person who was just trying to make small talk with a client. “It’s okay, I guess. Definitely interesting.”

Chanyeol hums a little as he smooths his hands up and down Kyungsoo’s back, then moves down towards his legs. It seems like he’s encouraging Kyungsoo to keep talking about his work, but that’s not going to happen. Kyungsoo hasn’t even admitted to Baekhyun how often he breaks down in the shower after work, the tight coil of fear that surrounds him – the constant emotional hurricane that rages through their little shared office every time something doesn’t go exactly to Siwon’s plan, culminating in slammed desk drawers, thumped coffee mugs, and either a silent sulk that Kyungsoo and Soonkyu are afraid to interrupt or yelling that frightens Kyungsoo more than he’s willing to admit – the looming knowledge that any day Siwon could call him into his office and give him a firm end date, whether he’s got a new job lined up or not, the desperation with which he sends out his resumes and the abject despair that rocks through him now when they come back. Sure, months ago Kyungsoo could afford to be cocky, to think to himself that it was that firm’s loss, but now he wakes up and goes to work and comes back home surrounded by the knowledge that he is not enough, will never be enough. Is unwanted. Kyungsoo broke down in front of Sehun and his boyfriend once, after one of Siwon’s bad days, and he’s still mortified about it. He’s not going to talk to Chanyeol about that. Time for some redirection.

“What made you want to go into massage?” 

Chanyeol laughs. It’s loud and unrestrained, which is not particularly fitting for a massage atmosphere but seems perfectly _Chanyeol_. 

“There’s a lot of reasons, really. I was actually in school to become a doctor, and I was thinking maybe of psychiatry. But I couldn’t afford to finish all those extra years of schooling and training. I ended up with a different degree, but I still liked the idea of helping people feel better. I like being active and on my feet during the day, not sitting behind a desk or taking notes. So working in massage fulfills all those things I wanted. People are happy to come and see me, and they feel better when they leave. Some people talk about things with me during the massage, and some people don’t, but I’m helping them out either way.”

Chanyeol’s hands continue their movement over Kyungsoo’s back as he talks, thumbs digging in near Kyungsoo’s lower spine. Everything Chanyeol has said about his job sounds wonderful to Kyungsoo, and before his brain filter has rebooted after all that talk about his job Kyungsoo realizes that he’s said it out loud. There’s a little pause as Chanyeol absorbs the implication – that Kyungsoo’s job is _not_ wonderful. But mercifully, he lets the subject drop, and moves on to an important topic: stupid things that Tao has done recently. Before Kyungsoo realizes, his session is over. He barely even registered Chanyeol’s hands on him, more caught up in the funny stories and his own small contributions by way of Baekhyun’s idiocy and Sehun’s drama. Kyungsoo feels relaxed in a way he really hasn’t in a long time – not physically, per se, although Chanyeol always does a great job with the massage, but emotionally, in the same way that his hand feels when he finally lets go of a pen after writing with it for hours straight. It feels like something has released, a little. Kyungsoo isn’t sure exactly what that means for him, really, but it’s been so long since he’s had a genuine and unforced positive emotional response to something that he isn’t inclined to think too hard about it. 

Before he leaves the room, Chanyeol drops a mound of fabric on the little stool by the sink. “Since we used a different technique, there’s more oil residue on your skin. We have a little shower that you can use if you’d like to clean off before you put your clothes back on. You can use this robe on the way there.”

Kyungsoo, who has propped himself up on his elbows, looks over to the lump that is apparently a robe and thinks about the state of his clothes. “That would be great, thanks.”

Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo that he’ll wait outside and then show him the way to the shower, then steps out and closes the door. The robe is gigantic – clearly made for someone much taller than Kyungsoo (Tao? Jongin? Chanyeol himself? Is he the only short client here?), but at least he’s not walking around close to naked. Kyungsoo finishes wrapping himself up, bundles his clothes to take with him, and steps out into the hallway. 

The shower is two doors down, and pretty clearly not done being remodeled yet. The amenities are basic, but it gets the job done, and Kyungsoo is able to re-dress without the despair of ruining clothing that is basic but still cost more than he thinks it should have. He walks back down the Chanyeol-free hallway and reminds himself to make his next appointment before he leaves.


	11. An Unexpected Proposition

As he pushes the door leading back to the lobby open, Kyungsoo notices Jongin moving strangely. At first, Kyungsoo is a little concerned about the jerky way Jongin’s shoulders are moving. Then he notices Jongin’s hands moving under the desk and hears the sound of his feet tapping. Kyungsoo is no expert, but at this point he is pretty sure that Jongin is attempting to subtly practice some kind of dance move and not having some sort of frightening medical event. Since Jongin had given him a real smile when he came into the clinic before, Kyungsoo feels like maybe he is allowed to tease him a little. It didn’t seem like he’d noticed Kyungsoo come back out from the hallway, so Kyungsoo walks as quietly as he can over to the desk.

“Hey.”

Jongin squawks in an incredibly unattractive (but also kind of hilarious) way as he snaps back into what Kyungsoo thinks of as “default desk pose” – back straight, hands placed professionally on the desk. After that reaction is complete, he looks over at Kyungsoo, his face red. Kyungsoo can’t help but grin a little at him – he looks adorable, with his lower lip pouted out a little now that he knows it’s Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo has no idea what has separated him from the other clients in Jongin’s brain and placed him in the category of “okay to be my actual self around”, but he’s not complaining. Kyungsoo has worked in retail before, and he knows how annoying it is when customers decide to insert themselves into your life without any input from you, so the fact that Jongin is treating him kind of like a friend makes him feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. 

“You startled me!” Not-work Jongin is apparently five years old. 

“Sorry.” It’s pretty obvious that Kyungsoo is unrepentant. “What were you practicing?” 

Jongin takes a look around the lobby as though he was about to drop some national-security level intel on Kyungsoo. The move is wasted, though, because there is literally nobody else in the lobby. Wherever Chanyeol and Tao and whoever else is here go between clients or sessions or whatever, they are clearly there. 

“I teach dance classes on the side – well, technically, dance and choreography is what I want to do as a career, but Chanyeol was nice enough to hire me so I could pay the bills. We’ll be working on a new song, and I was just going through the moves in my head to make sure they fit together.”

Kyungsoo is impressed. He hasn’t really spent a lot of time thinking about dancing one way or the other, aside from wishing that he was a more graceful and poised person in general. But being skilled enough to teach a dance class seems pretty awesome. And working two jobs is no joke, especially when one job is as physically demanding as dance. 

“What kind of dance do you teach?” It’s prying, and normally Kyungsoo would never ask someone working a customer service job questions about their personal life, but his interactions with Jongin so far seem to indicate that Jongin doesn’t mind. (Kyungsoo makes a mental note to wonder about why Jongin doesn’t mind later, especially considering that ridiculous spy-style room-checking before.) 

“I teach mostly contemporary dance. Little kids, and a class or two of teenagers. But the studio I work at has all kinds of classes for all ages.” Jongin is not particularly subtle as he eyes Kyungsoo up and down. “You should come try a class. There are adult beginner classes for all types of dance. Or just casual dance classes.” 

Kyungsoo has never really considered dance lessons, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to start now. But the last thing he wants is to hurt Jongin’s feelings, especially since he was the one who started this whole conversation and Jongin has never been anything but nice to him. Kyungsoo decides that this awkwardness is a natural consequence of attempting to be personable (which is why he rarely makes the attempt) before he says, “Sure, I’ll think about it. Where is the studio?”

Jongin provides him with a tiny business card (why?) with the studio’s name, contact info, and SNS links listed in a ridiculous artistic font. At least it’s not Comic Sans or Papyrus, Kyungsoo thinks as he tucks it in a pocket where he intends to forget about it until it is accidentally destroyed in the washing machine. But the giant smile on Jongin’s face is unfeigned, and Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to do anything that would erase it – at least not while he’s in front of Jongin and could see it wither in person. The smile transforms Jongin’s whole face, and Kyungsoo has never liked disappointing people. He books his next session with Chanyeol and leaves. Jongin waves as the door shuts behind him.


	12. Dance Dance Revolution

Kyungsoo continues not particularly thinking about Jongin’s suggestion of dance classes until he goes to get dressed one day and notices that his pants don’t fit as well as they used to. And now that he thinks about it, there’s a couple of pairs of pants in his closet that he doesn’t wear anymore because they’d started to become uncomfortable. Kyungsoo has never been particularly thrilled with his body, has never really thought of himself as physically good-looking, so he really mostly tries not to think about what he looks like naked. It’s been a long time since he dated, anyway, and he’s got more important things to think about. But now his clothes don’t fit, and when he briefly glances at his torso in the mirror on the way into the shower the pudge around his middle catches his eye. 

Kyungsoo does not intend to be celibate like this forever; he wants to date, and be happy, and maybe eventually be in a long-term relationship and whatever. It’s just that life has been really stressful for a longer time than he’d like to admit, and dealing with everything else has pushed dating down to the bottom of his priority list. But if he gets a new job that doesn’t suck, one with an actual career trajectory, that possibility will become frighteningly relevant. Kyungsoo looks at himself in the mirror and takes stock of himself. He’s short; that’s always been the case, and while he doesn’t like it, there’s not much he can do about it. He’s got a decent frame, and all, but he’s just… soft. Kyungsoo stares at himself and thinks that _he_ wouldn’t want to sleep with him, so how could he expect anyone else to want to?

That puts some kind of exercise on Kyungsoo’s to-do list. He spends an hour on the internet attempting to figure out what might be the most effective form of exercise, and then realizes that almost everything he’s writing down is something he would hate having to spend time doing. Kyungsoo is not going to train in cross-fit until he vomits. He’s not going to run around on a track for miles and miles going nowhere. He lives in an apartment, so he has nowhere to do things like jumping rope or jumping jacks or goddamn burpees even if he found that sort of thing appealing. 

Reluctantly, Kyungsoo pulls the card Jongin gave him out of his pants pocket. One good thing about the idea of dance is that he knows an instructor at the studio; maybe he can get a discount of some kind, or a trial week. Kyungsoo’s budget is not enormous and he doesn’t have the money to buy some kind of season package that he won’t be able to finish out once people discover that he dances like a duck on methamphetamines. This might be an actual possibility.

One of Kyungsoo’s guilty pleasures is pop music. He generally doesn’t mention it outside of his close friend group because he feels a little embarrassed to be so old and still listening to something produced for and marketed to teenagers, but he finds himself singing it in the shower, if he’s alone on the subway (quietly, in case someone changes cars and he doesn’t see it), when he’s alone in the house. Some of the groups he follows upload their dance practices onto the internet. Kyungsoo has never really bothered watching them for the same reason he doesn’t watch the actual music videos: he listens for the vocals and the overall song and anything else is extraneous. Maybe it would be a good idea to look at a couple of them now, and see whether he likes the idea. It wouldn’t hurt to look up some of those other styles of dance too, while he’s at it. 

He pulls up the first video and settles down to watch, the image maximized on his screen. He already knows the tune, the lyrics, so the first thing he notices is the footwork. It looks so complicated, but at the same time it’s executed as smoothly as if they were just walking. All of the movements are crisp, and well defined, and they manage to look both graceful and powerful at once. It’s really impressive. Why hasn’t he paid attention to this before? It’s actually pretty cool. Kyungsoo loads up seven or eight videos, different song genres and tempos, and finds something to enjoy in each choreographed routine. 

Obviously, Kyungsoo is not delusional enough to think he’s going to get to this class (assuming that he can afford to go and the place doesn’t seem too…well…anything) and dance like these performers. They’ve probably been training since they were in diapers, and if Kyungsoo wears long pants and doesn’t pay attention he sometimes trips himself on his own cuffs. But man, if he could look half as talented as they do, that would be amazing. Kyungsoo doesn’t really think of himself as particularly skilled at anything, and he’s sure that dance will be no different, but he lets himself hope that maybe he’ll be a natural or something. 

He pulls up the studio’s website and starts poking around. It looks very professionally boring, which is a surprising contrast to the pretentiousness of the business card Jongin handed to him. There’s a button to pull up a location map, links to their SNS accounts, an “about us” page, and a link that says “Group Classes”. Kyungsoo clicks through.

It looks like there are several kinds of classes held at multiple times throughout the day. The site lets him filter out all of the kiddie classes and leave only the adult sessions up. There’s at least one every day, but there seem to be different types of class based on dance style. While Kyungsoo likes the aesthetics of ballet, he knows he doesn’t have the strength or the time that it would take to learn, so he filters those out. That leaves him with five options: Contemporary, Modern, Hip-Hop, Latin, and Casual/Zumba. Kyungsoo can make an educated guess at the hip-hop and latin, and he’s pretty sure he’s overheard some ajummas talking on the train about their Zumba classes, but the other two are a mystery. Contemporary and modern are basically the same word, so what’s the difference in dance style? The internet provides him with little help. 

Contemporary, Modern, Hip-Hop, and Latin all seem pretty intimidating – like they would have set steps Kyungsoo would have to memorize, and he’d have to find a partner, or if he did something incorrectly he’d step on someone or something. If he’s going to give this a shot, better to do it in a more casual environment where people either won’t notice him or, if they do, won’t have any expectations of him. That leaves him only one option.

There’s a Casual class on Tuesday at 6:45. That’s enough time for him to take the subway from the office to the studio, if he changes in the office bathroom before he leaves. Kyungsoo checks the price. It’s sixty thousand won per month, but there’s a one-week trial period before the billing begins. He can afford that payment, and the free week is probably long enough to see if he sucks too badly at this to keep attempting it in public. 

With a look over his shoulder at the pants he no longer wears, hanging neglected in his closet, Kyungsoo decides to give it a shot.


	13. Stepping Up

On Tuesday evening, Kyungsoo is once again the last one in their section of the building (except, of course, for Siwon, who is doing something Kyungsoo has decided not to worry too much about in his office with the door shut). Kyungsoo is pretty sure that Siwon expects him to stay at his desk, working away at the mounds of administrative tasks that he creates for no reason Kyungsoo can understand, until Siwon himself leaves the building. But Kyungsoo has decided that he’s done playing this constant game of placating his boss at the expense of his own life. He will do exactly what his job requires, he will do it well, and then he is fucking leaving. He’s not going to stay late to make extra copies of Siwon’s presentation handouts or help him with powerpoints or teach him for the fiftieth time how the goddamn scanner works. A not-so-small part of Kyungsoo protests at this, thinks that he should be grateful to still have a job at all, that Siwon is only like this because somewhere, somehow, Kyungsoo isn’t doing his job right in the first place, and that he should try harder, work longer, do better. But the rest of him is tired of being tired, of feeling as though someone is always screaming at him, and has decided that Siwon doesn’t own him. (That part of him may be bolstered by the constant refrains of “Fuck that guy, seriously” from Sehun and Baekhyun. Kyungsoo can’t tell whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.)

So instead of finding additional work to do (not that hard) until Siwon emerges from his cave and gives him royal permission to go, Kyungsoo shuts down his computer. Then he picks up his bag, walks to the bathroom, and changes into his gym clothes before he walks out the door and the three blocks to the subway stop. It’s a little odd, walking around like this; Kyungsoo wears a suit to work all day, every day, and is not used to looking so casual in this neighborhood. The feeling dissipates when he steps into the subway car and sits, checking his phone to remind himself how many stops before he needs to get off. He wonders idly whether Siwon has noticed that he’s gone – whether he’s angry – whether Kyungsoo is going to be reprimanded tomorrow, either in plain language or through passive aggressive comments or sulking. Adrenaline spikes through his body and he almost decides to get off at the next exit and go back to work. Almost, but the digging of the elastic of his gym shorts at his waist reminds him that he’s not doing this to get away from work, to be a slacker, a bad person. 

The train continues, and in short time arrives at the stop Kyungsoo needs. He exits and makes his way up to the street, pulling out his phone again for help with walking directions. It’s only a few blocks from the stop, an easy walk. Kyungsoo is glad for this; he doesn’t want to arrive at the gym already sweaty and out of breath and broadcasting how very sedentary his life is to what will probably be a room full of people who are significantly more talented and dedicated than he is. He’s right on time, so there’s no need to rush.

The front of the building is not particularly ostentatious, and when Kyungsoo steps up to the front desk and tells the girl sitting there he’s interested in trying out their free week, she quickly steps to the back and pulls out the paperwork to go through with him herself. Clearly this isn’t a high-rolling studio, which makes him feel a little better as well. Maybe their expectations of him won’t be so high and they’ll just be glad to get his monthly payment even if he stinks. The girl at the desk (her nametag says Joy, and he wonders if it’s an affectation or her actual name) explains the free week process and hands him some documents to review. Kyungsoo reads them carefully; he can’t help it, it’s part of the job description. Everything looks fine, so he signs and fills out the form and hands it back to Joy. She trades him a key fob for the paperwork, and says that it will give him access to the locker rooms and a few other studios that they have a reciprocity agreement with. Joy points to the right and tells him that the Casual class is starting in Studio B in five minutes. Kyungsoo nods at her, suddenly dry-mouthed and very aware of the fact that he’s about to walk into a room full of people he doesn’t know and attempt to learn a skill he’s never even thought about acquiring before. He’s going to make an ass of himself. Turning abruptly, he follows Joy’s directions towards the studio, his nerves twanging and his stomach roiling uncomfortably. 

The studio itself is about 30 meters square. The floors are a honey-colored wood, buffed and clean, and the walls are mirrored with the exception of the back, which is all windows. Fans circulate lazily at strategic points on the ceiling; the air is a little cool in here, although Kyungsoo suspects that when they start working he’ll be glad for the breeze they offer. There are already people milling around in spots here and there, clearly waiting for class to start; it’s almost like walking early into a classroom where everyone has assigned seating and not knowing which desk is supposed to be yours, or even where an empty desk might be. Kyungsoo decides that he’s just going to hide as best he can, and he picks a spot in the back corner of the room. From this position, nobody is behind him or to his left, which means fewer people who can see him or that he could accidentally knock into, and he’s got a clear line of travel to the door if he embarrasses or injures himself and needs to bolt. 

While Kyungsoo was making his contingency plans and tucking himself into the corner of the room, a ton of other people have made their way into the studio and arranged themselves in roughly parallel lines. Kyungsoo is a little surprised; for a small building like this, and a studio that isn’t that large, there are quite a few people here. A lot of them seem to know each other well; they position themselves in clusters towards the front of the room and are chatting happily. Some, like Kyungsoo himself, remain solitary. Many are stretching, regardless of whether they are being social. Kyungsoo wonders whether he should stretch too. He rotates his shoulders awkwardly a couple times, wiggles a little in place as he thinks about maybe doing a side bend or something, but decides not to. What has he stepped into? He doesn’t know anything about dance, or this class.

Before Kyungsoo’s brain can completely shut down, a man that looks younger than him comes into the room. He plugs his phone into the stereo equipment and, sitting next to the stereo cabinet, changes from street shoes into sneakers. He’s wearing black athletic pants with a flannel shirt tied around his waist, and a plain white T-shirt. He’s got a face that Kyungsoo would call “striking” rather than “attractive”.

The instructor faces the class, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “I’m Rocky,” he says, “and I’m the teacher for this class. If you’re new here, hello! Watch anyone in the front row if you can’t see me very clearly. Now let’s have some fun!” 

Rocky turns to the stereo console and taps his phone. The music thumps through the room. The beat is simple, a rhythmic pounding that isn’t too fast and isn’t too slow. Rocky leads them through a song that Kyungsoo guesses must be some kind of a warm-up; the moves are simplistic and timed to directly hit the beat. He’s a little proud of himself that he can move with the rest of the class. It’s not that Kyungsoo has never danced before; he’s had some experience in school and at other peoples’ weddings and things. He knows what a grapevine is and how to do it without tripping himself. And one thing Kyungsoo prides himself on is that he follows directions like nobody’s business. So in theory, if he just makes sure he can always see what Rocky is doing, he might be okay. 

The song changes; the beat speeds up. The footwork gets more complicated. Kyungsoo finds himself falling out of step with the rest of the class. Nothing egregious, but it seems like he’s constantly about a move behind everyone else while he tries to process, tries to sort out a pattern in the footwork. He barely even tries to coordinate what his arms are doing, or any part of himself other than his feet, he’s so busy hoping to catch back up. And then, after a little while, the moves repeat. He catches on – is only a little bit behind, this time. Stumbles again a little during a verse, but when the chorus comes around again he thinks he might get it. The song ends before he does, and it segues cleanly into the next. A new beat. Different moves. More mistakes. It's not a great feeling.

Kyungsoo keeps his eyes trained on Rocky’s feet as he moves like his joints are made of jello (seriously, if Kyungsoo tried to use his ankles like that he thinks they might _snap_ ), yelling encouragements to the class and saying things like “single, single, double!” and “shake it!” at various points during the songs. Maybe Kyungsoo was being overly optimistic during the warm-up. This is not an easy class, and Kyungsoo is pretty sure he’s the worst dancer here. Kyungsoo does not like being the center of attention even on good days; he certainly doesn’t want to be the one getting attention in a dance class for being awful. The people in the front of the room move just as well as Rocky does; they clearly either already know the moves or dance well enough that they catch on almost immediately. Kyungsoo feels more than a little out of place here. 

After about half an hour, Kyungsoo can feel himself getting winded. He’s still trying to keep up, but he’s glad that he’s wearing his customary all-black workout gear so that nobody can see the sweat stains that he can feel forming, and he’s pretty sure his face looks like a tomato. Clearly he was right that he needed to start exercising again, and now that he knows how not great he is at this activity he’s even more glad than before that he didn’t give Jongin a heads up that he would be coming by. Just thinking about Jongin seeing him like this makes a slow wave of nausea crawl all over Kyungsoo’s body. 

Right before the hour is up, Rocky leads them all in a cool-down routine. It feels phenomenal, actually – now that Kyungsoo is actually thinking about his physical condition, he can tell that some of the tension has worked itself out of his shoulders and calves. He follows dutifully along with the rest of the class. Once the cool-down is finished, four or five of the dancers up in the front crowd around Rocky, laughing and talking with him. A few other little groups form and begin to socialize as well. Kyungsoo does his best to make an exit without having to talk to anyone and explain that yes, this is his first day, and no, he’s not sure that he’s going to stay because he’s not real good at this and it’s _embarrassing_ to be bad at things in front of people who judge you because they know you probably shouldn’t be here, and nice to meet you too, bye.

But on Kyungsoo’s way out the door, Rocky catches his eye, and gives him a smile and a thumbs-up through the crowd surrounding him. It’s actually a little heartening, like maybe Kyungsoo wasn’t as bad at this as he thought.

Kyungsoo grits his teeth and comes back the next Tuesday. Still gets winded halfway through, but feels like he has a better sense of the moves. Finds a song he likes. Finds some moves he likes. Nods cautiously at the person next to him before he once again walks straight for the exit after class. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t cancel his membership now that the free trial week is over. But he doesn’t look for Jongin, or leave him a message at the desk. In fact, Kyungsoo checks the schedule to see when Jongin is teaching and carefully avoids the studio during those times. He comes only for the class with Rocky, arrives right before already changed and leaves right after, changing at home. Class is enjoyable, now. Kyungsoo feels like he fits in a little – he’s not a great dancer, but he doesn’t feel awful about himself during class anymore. Six weeks in, he actually kind of enjoys it, when he manages to get out of his own head about how he looks. 

It’s only a few weeks later that he sees the notice posted on the studio doors. Rocky makes a special announcement in class – he’s been scouted for a dance troupe, and so he won’t be able to teach anymore. Jongin will be taking over for him, starting next week.

Well, fuck. There went Kyungsoo’s tiny little run of luck in his otherwise gloriously shit-stained life. Now he’s got to switch classes. 

He peruses the website again to check the class times. Kyungsoo prefers going to class during the week so that he could reserve his weekend for more important things, like cleaning his toilet and scrubbing the stove and hoping the firm would maybe burn down so he wouldn’t have to go to work on Monday. Unfortunately, all the other weekday classes at his skill level are either during his working hours or so early that he would be a wreck by the time he got to the office. The weekend is his only option now. Kyungsoo is not going to sacrifice the two days a week he gets to sleep in to take an early morning class, and Jongin doesn’t appear to be teaching at all on those days, so he decides a class at 11:00 a.m. Late enough to sleep in, early enough that the whole day isn’t shot.

He’ll have to reschedule the session he’s got booked with Chanyeol, but Kyungsoo is actually kind of okay with that because these classes are not only some decent stress relief, but he kind of wants to stretch out his free sessions with Chanyeol for as long as he can. He tells the receptionist (who is not Jongin, and Kyungsoo wonders who it is and what Jongin is doing) that something came up and reschedules for six weeks later. Kyungsoo is very aware that he’s only got two sessions with Chanyeol left before he’s going to have to dip into his wallet, and his wallet is one big shallow end at best. But he's not ready to let go of a good thing while he's got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocky's dancing is a gift thank you bye ~


	15. Interlude

The alarm blares on Saturday morning, and if Kyungsoo could set it on fire with his mind, he absolutely would. He hits “sleep” a couple times on his phone, hoping that maybe the little bit of respite would allow him to feel like he has actually recuperated a little bit from the week. 

It doesn’t work. He rolls out of bed, turns the alarm off, and lurches unhappily into the bathroom to brush his teeth and do other boring hygiene things. This weekend dance class is going to take some getting used to. First step: breakfast. 

Cleaned, fed, watered, and dressed, Kyungsoo hops on the train. He resents being there, a little, dislikes feeling obligated to do things on one of the two days that were (mostly) his. And he’s also got that creeping feeling inside like he had when he first started these classes – this is a whole new group of people that he could potentially make an ass of himself around, a teacher that might not be as friendly or enthusiastic as Rocky was. If Kyungsoo is really unlucky, he’ll run into Jongin and then not only have to display his pathetic attempt at dancing but also need to explain why he didn’t say he was coming to the studio. The more Kyungsoo thinks about it, the more unhappy he gets, until the train signals its stop and he lets himself be carried out with the wave of people going about their regular lives. Trying fiercely to ignore his inner temper tantrum, he walks through the door, checks in with Joy, and pokes open the door to the studio.

There’s almost nobody there. Well, there are five or six people, but it’s not really enough to make up a full line of people in the front of the room. Kyungsoo is used to Rocky’s class, where he estimates there are probably fifty people, give or take. This is a little weird. He wonders if the instructor is insecure about the small class size.

Then it dawns on him – there’s no way Kyungsoo can take his usual hidey-hole in the back corner of the classroom today without looking like a giant asshole, especially if there aren’t even enough people in the class to form the front line of dancers. 

Fuck.

A swift and brutal war rages between social pressure and Kyungsoo’s internal high-pitched screaming at the idea of being near the front of the class. Social pressure wins. The row of Kyungsoo’s new classmates ends in such a way that it leaves him a space right by the door, as though the universe rolled its eyes and said “Fine, you big baby, I’ll throw you a bone.” Kyungsoo will take it. Close to the door is easy exit. He fidgets in place and tries not to make eye contact with anyone.

Two minutes before class is supposed to begin, the man Kyungsoo assumes is the instructor wanders in. He’s a little taller than Kyungsoo, probably a little older, definitely thinner. He’s wearing a garish outfit in multiple colors and patterns, and his angular face seems to be set in a permanent side-eye. Kyungsoo, in possession of a fabulous resting bitch face of his own, can sympathize with the last part, at least. The instructor sits down and takes off his shoes, exchanging them for a (no less colorful) pair of sneakers, then gets up and plugs his phone into the sound system. The volume is almost deafening; Kyungsoo can’t help but think it’s overdone for a class that’s so small, but then the instructor turns the volume down to a more bearable level and shuts the door to the hallway. 

“All right, good morning everyone! My name is Kibum, and I’ll be your instructor for this class. Keep moving, even if you don’t know the steps. Drink plenty of water. Modify any moves that you need to, either up or down. Let’s get started!”

Being near the front of the class means that Kyungsoo can see exactly what Kibum is doing, and he didn’t realize before how much of his struggle to figure out the moves in new dances was because he was only catching glimpses of Rocky in the gaps between the people in front of him. But he’s also off to the side, which means nobody is looking at _him_ doing the dance moves, which is even better. Kibum uses a couple of the same songs and dance sets that Rocky did, and that puts Kyungsoo at ease a little. He’s not entirely back to square one. He knows the basic steps now, too, and that makes learning new songs a lot easier than it was when he first started. 

Kibum is pretty high energy – his jumps take him fairly high off the ground, and he bounces on his feet a lot. Kyungsoo feels like maybe gravity is different around Kibum. Nobody should have that much pep. It’s obscene. But by the end of class, Kyungsoo feels okay about doing this on his Saturday mornings. Kibum announces that he also teaches a class at 1:00 p.m. on Sundays, and Kyungsoo decides to attend that one too. If he’s going to exercise, he might as well commit to it. (At least on the weekends.) The Sunday class passes almost exactly the same way as the Saturday class. Kyungsoo even stands in the same spot.

Kibum’s class must be new, because after three weeks or so, more people show up in the studio. At this point, Kyungsoo feels like he has a handle on all of the songs, and Kibum tends to play them in a fairly set pattern, so he’s okay staying where he usually does instead of moving to the back. He’s actually a little startled that he feels this way, but at the same time, he likes being able to see what he’s supposed to be doing, and he likes standing near the door, just in case. (Once he had to leave and pee in the middle of a song. It was nice to just duck out and back in again.) He starts to think of it as “his” spot.

The person who has been standing next to Kyungsoo since he joined the class turns to him one Saturday and smiles. Kyungsoo is immediately intimidated; this guy is everything that Kyungsoo is not. Sure, he’s older, but he’s tall, he’s got a slim but athletic build, he’s really attractive, and more importantly to Kyungsoo, he dances like he was made to do it. Sometimes, when Kibum seems to be really feeling himself and getting kind of excitable, Kyungsoo watches his neighbor instead. He moves in a way that is both precise and fluid, and is graceful in a way that makes Kyungsoo feel like he’s moving around in shoes made of cement blocks. 

“Hi, I’m Yunho.”

Kyungsoo introduces himself as non-awkwardly as he can, given that class is over and so he’s sweaty, a little out of breath, and probably unattractively flushed. All he wants to do is go home and shower. What is this socializing and why does everyone on the planet seem to want to do it. 

“How long have you been dancing?” Yunho’s expression is friendly, but Kyungsoo feels like it’s a judgment anyway. _Obviously_ he hasn’t been doing this long, he’s still waddling around and flailing his arms like an idiot. 

“A couple months, I think. You?” This is a stupid question. Kyungsoo knows it is a stupid question, but he’s going to ask it anyway because it’s the socially expected response, even though Yunho has clearly been dancing since he was old enough to stand. He was probably born in a dance outfit or something. 

“Oh, longer than I care to admit. I figured that you had been doing this for a while, though. You must be a natural. It seems like you catch on to all the new moves really fast.” Yunho’s face is open and his smile seems genuine. Kyungsoo thinks back through the two or three new songs that have been introduced over the last couple weeks. Then he thinks a little about whether he’s learned them and how the first time dancing to them went. It seems a little too good to be true, but Yunho isn’t acting like he’s bullshitting. Kyungsoo awkwardly runs his hand up and down through the hair on the back of his head.

“Thanks.” Kyungsoo has never been good with compliments. He mentally flails for a minute trying to think of an appropriate response and can’t come up with anything, and he can feel the tips of his ears turning red the more embarrassed he gets. Yunho doesn’t appear to notice.

“So, Key and I actually stay after class to come up with new routines. We could use someone to help practice with us. If you’re interested.” 

Kyungsoo has been in class long enough and learned enough of the routines to feel like he isn’t terrible at dancing, but he would never have expected an invitation like this. Frankly, he is pretty sure that he’s not a good dancer so much as he’s just good at copying what other people are doing. But he’s also not going to deny (to himself, because he probably wouldn’t even say this to Sehun or Baekhyun) that it’s really nice hearing, for the first time in what feels like a really long time, that he’s good at something. That someone thinks he is talented, or at least has potential. Kyungsoo finds himself agreeing to stay after practice the next day.

In Sunday morning’s class, Kyungsoo finds himself paying even more attention to Yunho than he usually does. Where Key’s dancing is all energy and force, Yunho’s moves are precise and controlled. Kyungsoo also notices that Yunho will occasionally signal what the next move in a dance is beforehand. He’s not quite sure why, but he personally appreciates the gesture. Maybe it’s for the people in the back who can’t see Key really well. And while Kyungsoo appreciates Key’s athleticism and finds that trying to match his energy level means that Kyungsoo gets a better workout than he would if left to his own devices, he finds Yunho’s style to be more aesthetically appealing. Kyungsoo would be happy if he could dance like Key, but what he really wants, in his plodding little heart, is to move like Yunho. He’s still not sure he’ll accomplish either goal. 

After the cooldown song, the other class members slowly disperse. A couple chat with Key quickly, and Kyungsoo uses the opportunity to get some more water. When he gets back, only Key and Yunho are in the studio, and they are standing close to each other, watching something on Key’s phone. It doesn’t look intimate, but Kyungsoo feels awkwardly out of place. Did Yunho forget that he asked Kyungsoo to stay behind? Was it just a pity gesture, and they thought that he’d left earlier and kept going without him? Should he try to get their attention, or just make a quiet exit?

Yunho solves the problem by turning around and spotting Kyungsoo, who is hovering awkwardly with his water bottle near the doorway. 

“Oh good, there you are! We were just about to get started. This is a song that Key was going to introduce in a week or two, but we aren’t sure that it will fit in with the class. Would you follow along with us as we do it, and then give us some feedback?”

Kyungsoo nods dumbly, and Key turns to fiddle with his phone, hooking it back up to the stereo system. He’s still a little stunned that anyone has noticed him in class for anything other than looking like a giant hack, and it’s even weirder that people who dance as well as Key and Yunho care about his opinion about their choreography. 

The music starts, and Key dashes over to where Yunho is already standing. The two of them are standing exactly where they would be if they were both instructing the class. Kyungsoo arranges himself so that he can see both of them, and starts following along as best he can. It’s a new routine, with footwork that is more intricate than they usually do in class. Kyungsoo flubs the first verse and chorus completely, but catches onto the pattern the second time around. There’s one section that completely stumps him – the switch from one set of moves to another is too fast, and he can’t get himself oriented in a way that lets him make the change without tripping over himself. 

Then, two thirds of the way through the song, Key’s movements stutter. So do Yunho’s. It’s like they each attempted to start a different dance move and got confused because they were watching the other one. They both stop, and laugh a little. Kyungsoo stops, too, and fidgets a little awkwardly. 

“I think we were supposed to be repeating the first section of the chorus.” Key goes over and disconnects his phone, then pokes at it for a while. Yunho shakes his head as he walks over to Key, gesturing for Kyungsoo to follow. “I’m pretty sure that happens eight counts later, and we’re supposed to be doing a v-step.”

Kyungsoo sidles up to them, and sees that they’re watching a video on Key’s phone. It looks like three people, on a platform in front of a crowd of others. They’re doing the choreography that Kyungsoo, Key, and Yunho have been practicing. 

It has never really occurred to Kyungsoo to wonder where Key got his dance routines, although he’s noticed that Key used some of the same songs that Rocky did but with different choreography. Judging from the program that Key is using to watch this video, there’s some kind of universal reference bank that teachers can use. Key drags his finger on the phone, moving to the right section of song, and he and Yunho both squint at the video. Yunho is correct; they’re doing something different. Key switches out to his music player and reconnects the phone. 

“Let’s start from the beginning. Is that okay with you, Kyungsoo?” Yunho looks back over his shoulder at Kyungsoo with a smile. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel like he’s in a position to contradict, and honestly, if they didn’t start from the beginning he would be totally lost anyway. So he just nods. Yunho flashes a thumbs-up at him as Key scoots back to his position from beside the sound system. 

This time, Yunho and Key are on the same page throughout the routine. And now that Kyungsoo knows what the steps are supposed to be, he can clumsily follow along, except for that one foot switch that he still can’t master. When the song finishes, Key and Yunho turn to Kyungsoo. 

“What do you think?” Yunho’s got a big grin on his face. Key looks more self-satisfied than anything, but he nods at Kyungsoo in a silent invitation. 

Kyungsoo isn’t sure what the protocol is for giving feedback, and he’s nervous about potentially upsetting either Key or Yunho, although it’s for different reasons. If Key is unhappy with him, he won’t be able to come to these classes anymore, and he’s started to really enjoy them. But Kyungsoo actually wants to be friends with Yunho. He’s a little surprised by how quickly he’s decided on that; he usually takes longer to warm up to people. Maybe he’s a sucker for a compliment. But it’s also Kyungsoo’s policy to be honest, especially when someone is asking him specifically for feedback. 

“I really like the footwork in the first part of the chorus,” he says quietly, “but I can’t figure out how to transition from that to the start of the second verse without tripping because we go from facing right to facing left with nothing in between.”

Hopefully that was politically correct enough. Kyungsoo is _not_ holding his breath to see whether he’s about to be dismissed or teased for not being good enough to get the choreography. Really. He’s just making sure his lungs get every bit of usable oxygen out of that inhale he just took. 

Key is nodding a little as Yunho frowns and runs through the transition Kyungsoo mentioned quickly, tapping his feet instead of making the actual motions. Eventually, Yunho stops and nods as well. 

“I see what you mean. It’s a really fast change.” He starts shuffling his feet again. “What if, instead of starting the second verse on the left, we start it on the right?”

The question seems to be directed at both of them, but it’s Key that answers. “That makes sense. It’s a quick change and I don’t really like it that much myself.”

Yunho nods. “Start the song again and we’ll try it the other way.”

The run-through with the change is both easier and harder. Easier, because that transition makes more physical sense to Kyungsoo, but now the entire second verse is backwards, which is perplexing until he gets the hang of it. They do it twice more before Key is nodding his head in satisfaction. 

“I think that does it. The change really does help.”

Yunho has moved over to a backpack sitting next to the mirror. He rummages around for a minute and comes up with a towel, and pats his face. “I agree. The moves are easier that way, it’s better for the class.” He turns to Kyungsoo, who is trying really hard not to show how tired he is. “That was a good observation, Kyungsoo. Thanks. This is why it’s so helpful to have other people work with us; there’s no point in introducing new songs if they aren’t fun.” 

Kyungsoo doesn’t really know what to say, so he smiles and thanks Key and Yunho for letting him stay after. When he moves towards the door, picking up his bag and starting to switch into his outdoor shoes, Key says “You know, we do this every week. You could make it a regular thing to hang back with us. If you like.” 

Kyungsoo can’t help the wide smile that breaks across his face as he nods, waves, and leaves the studio. The world outside suddenly seems a little more sunny.


	16. Experience Required

Although the more emotionally-involved problem of Chanyeol has been long solved, Kyungsoo is still in the same position with respect to his career prospects: namely, he has none. And time is ticking. The little bit of success, pride, happiness, or whatever, that Kyungsoo feels like he’s tasted in that dance class is infectious: he wants it in the other parts of his life, too. 

A friend of a friend knows someone who works in a local company in the robotics field. Apparently, they have a legal division. Kyungsoo reaches out, sends his resume, and asks if he can come meet someone there. It’s getting to the point where Kyungsoo is willing to be a parachute hire if he needs to be, even though the idea in general disgusts him. He gets a pleasant e-mail back, and a note that they’ll follow up with an attempt to schedule a meeting once they coordinate with the relevant personnel. 

Meanwhile, a distant relative, who is well-meaning but clearly so far along in their career that they haven’t had to job hunt in a long time, connects Kyungsoo with a woman that he calls a “career maker.” In his desperation, Kyungsoo is willing to pay what he considers to be an exorbitant amount of won in exchange for a new job that, if it isn’t awesome, at least sucks marginally less and is more secure than the one he’s in now. 

After taking a personality test that Kyungsoo is pretty sure is pure bunk, the headhunter tells him she’ll be in touch with him shortly. She asks for his personal preferences about jobs, his salary requirements, what he wants to do with his career. Kyungsoo tries not to be a jaded asshole and tell her that what he wants to do with his career is not hate it. He mostly succeeds. He walks out the door with her business card and a confusing mix of hope for the future and the sinking sense that he’s just wasted an awful lot of money.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket on the subway home and notices that he’s got a voicemail. Someone must have called while he was in with the headhunter. When he gets off the subway and is back at ground level, he listens to the message. It’s Jongin, and for a second Kyungsoo’s heart clenches, but the message is business, not personal. Apparently, there’s a problem at Garden Retreat and they’ll need to reschedule Kyungsoo’s appointment with Chanyeol next weekend. That is really disappointing; Kyungsoo has been looking forward to a massage for a couple weeks now, both for the excitement of having something new to talk about with Chanyeol and for relief from the new muscle aches that have followed him home from Key’s class. Kyungsoo is a staple in class, now, and after class as well; Key and Yunho both seem happy to have him there and he is happy both to be there and to see his skills slowly improving. But there’s nothing to be done; it’s Kyungsoo’s own fault that the appointment was set out this far to begin with, and he thinks that Jongin and Chanyeol were nice enough to let him reschedule so he owes them the same courtesy.

Two weeks later, and he still hasn’t heard from the robotics company, despite a very polite, totally-not-nagging e-mail. He does, however, have a message from the headhunter. She’s got a contact in a company that handles high-volume legal contract issues, and can refer Kyungsoo if he’s interested. She forwards Kyungsoo the job description. It looks boring as shit and contains no information about the actual compensation of the job in any way, shape, or form. For all Kyungsoo knows, taking this job (assuming it’s offered to him) might constitute a pay cut, and Kyungsoo doesn’t get paid shit for the work he does as it is. He’s skeptical to say the least. 

But, as he well knows, he’s running thin as far as options go. Sehun tells him that word has spread around the firm that Siwon is an asshole to his staff. Kyungsoo is torn; on the one hand he’s relieved that at least people have a sense of what he’s going through, but on the other he’s embarrassed that people are speaking poorly of his supervisor. It’s an ironic situation, since Kyungsoo can’t help bitching to Baekhyun and Sehun about his boss, but he’s a little uncomfortable that other people might be talking about his situation when he’s not there and worries that if word gets back to Siwon it will look like Kyungsoo is running his mouth at the office instead of working. After a particularly nightmarish week, Kyungsoo decides he’s got nothing to lose. The “career maker” puts him in touch with her friend, who reviews Kyungsoo’s resume and provides him with a personal referral to the Human Resources manager. Kyungsoo applies for the job, although he privately admits to himself that he isn’t making as concerted an effort as he would if this were a job he was legitimately interested in. 

Two days later, Soonkyu tells Kyungsoo in confidence that she’s got an interview for a position at another law firm later that week. She tells Siwon she’s taking the day off because her son has a dental appointment. Kyungsoo both hopes she gets the job, because Soonkyu is a generally conscientious and friendly person, and hopes that she doesn’t get it, because Siwon will be a nightmare with a new paralegal in training and he’s bound to take Soonkyu leaving personally. In idle daydreams, Kyungsoo imagines an offer for the perfect job landing in his lap so that he and Soonkyu have their last day at the same time, and pictures Siwon floundering without them. He gets more satisfaction from the mental image than he would admit to anyone other than Baekhyun, who immediately responds, “I hope he cries.” 

Kyungsoo makes Baekhyun’s favorite meal for dinner.


	17. Bait and Switch

Finally, Kyungsoo’s next appointment with Chanyeol rolls around. It’s like his body knows that he hasn’t been in for a much longer time than usual, and has decided to up its game in the interim. Every part of Kyungsoo hurts. He makes a quick pit stop at home after his Saturday morning dance class, hops in the shower, puts on clean clothes, and jumps back on the subway. It’s funny, he thinks, how something he originally dreaded so much has become something that he really looks forward to. Kyungsoo knows that he’s going to be unhappy when he uses his next voucher (his last). He’s pretty sure that he’s going to have to try and find a way to budget in continuing appointments; he just hasn’t figured out how to do that with his hectic work schedule and rock-bottom salary. But that’s future Kyungsoo’s problem; present Kyungsoo only has to make sure he doesn’t smell like the gym, or have what Baekhyun so eloquently refers to as “swamp crotch,” when he shows up for his appointment. 

The Garden Retreat lobby has some new additions; folding screens that are set up along the walls on each side of the door leading to the treatment rooms, and some extra rugs underneath them. They look a little out-of-place with the rest of the décor; they clearly weren’t particularly expensive, although they aren’t ugly. Something about it is just… off. 

Jongin is back at his desk, and he smiles happily up at Kyungsoo and taps at his computer a few times as Kyungsoo approaches. “It’s been a long time!”

It’s both endearing and a little odd to Kyungsoo that Jongin always seems so happy to see him. It’s not like Kyungsoo has been particularly charming, or particularly attractive, when he’s come to these appointments. When he first read up on massage, he was advised to wear clothes that he didn’t mind getting excess oil on, so he’s arrived fairly consistently in sweatpants and t-shirts ever since. Obviously, they were clean and neat, because although Kyungsoo will never be trendy, he certainly won’t stand for being slovenly. But he can’t imagine there’s any appeal in that look. 

Regardless of the reason, Jongin is treating him like a friend, and he seems like a genuinely nice person. And Kyungsoo is realizing that maybe he needs more friendship in his life. He can’t rely on Baekhyun and Sehun always; they have lives of their own, and while Kyungsoo is perfectly content to be alone most of the time he can’t deny that being around Key and Yunho, and having what small connection he does with Jongin and Chanyeol, helps pull him out of his funk after rough days. There’s no reason not to be friends with Jongin. So Kyungsoo is going to. He smiles back. 

“It has. I’m sorry I had to reschedule that last time, it must have been very inconvenient.”

Jongin shakes his head. “No, not at all, it was totally fine. I know we had to reschedule your last appointment too, I’m sorry. We had a couple of pipes burst – that’s why we have those screens covering the walls, and the extra rugs.” 

That makes sense. If there were plumbers working on the building, it certainly wouldn’t have been a relaxing space. Nobody would have been able to work. Plus it would be expensive to both immediately fix the plumbing issue and the cosmetic side-effects of the damage. Jongin interrupts Kyungsoo’s train of mostly useless thought and says, “I’ve got you all checked in –“

Jongin is in turn interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. He flashes an apologetic look to Kyungsoo, who is still wondering what it would cost to repaint the damaged walls, and fishes it out of his pocket. Kyungsoo watches as Jongin’s eyebrows raise and he starts to look worried. 

“Everything okay, Jongin?” 

“Just a minute, Kyungsoo,” and then he’s out of his chair, ducking through the door into the back hallway and closing it behind himself.

That’s a little concerning. Now Kyungsoo is all alone in the lobby, and while it’s not like he’s going to snoop through Jongin’s desk or computer, it’s probably not good that the employees are all gone. Kyungsoo pointedly moves away from the desk and wanders back towards the exit, taking a seat by the door. Hopefully nobody’s on fire or anything. 

It’s a good five minutes or so before Jongin comes back. He gives Kyungsoo a tight-lipped smile as he walks over, which is really weird. It makes him look more stressed out than he was before – like he’s pasting a customer service smile over some other, less pleasant expression. Jongin sits primly in the seat next to Kyungsoo. Really, Kyungsoo would have picked Jongin to be a sprawler – easy and loose with his limbs in that weird graceful way that he’s seen from watching other dancers on the internet – so this is even more unnerving. Kyungsoo can feel himself starting to tense up in reaction. 

“So, uh, Kyungsoo, I’m sorry to say this, but there’s been an issue, and Chanyeol had to leave.” 

Ah. Kyungsoo knows what’s happening now. This is customer service smile pasted over guilt and stress face. Kyungsoo sports this face a lot. And while he’s not thrilled that he’s going to have to reschedule (for the third time now), it’s not like any of this was Jongin’s fault, and from the way he was acting earlier it actually seems more like it was some kind of emergency. Is Chanyeol living with an elderly parent who is ill? A wife who’s in labor? Regardless, it’s not like Chanyeol or Jongin did this to spite Kyungsoo specifically. (The universe in general, on the other hand… Kyungsoo makes a mental note to think something really sassy at it later.)

“It’s okay, Jongin. I understand. Sometimes things come up at the last minute. You weren’t to know. We can just reschedule.” Kyungsoo tries to be as cheerful and reassuring as possible. Jongin doesn’t look particularly convinced. Whatever he was about to say is cut off by a sudden hand that’s extended to Kyungsoo, who twitches a little from the surprise. Clearly he was focusing too hard on Jongin because he didn’t notice whoever this person is even as he walked right up to them. 

The hand is connected to a muscular forearm, and that goes all the way up to the shoulders of a tall (for fuck’s sake, what even is this place) and kind of sleepy-looking guy who’s giving Kyungsoo a very friendly smile. He’s got a dimple in his right cheek. Kyungsoo, still kind of annoyed at being snuck up on, thinks uncharitably that it looks like someone stuck him in the face with a pencil. 

“Hi,” says dimple dude. “My name is Yixing, and I’ll be filling in for Chanyeol for your session today. If you’ll follow me back?” 

His hand is still out. Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether Yixing is offering a handshake or helping him out of his chair, but the time to think about things has passed, and Kyungsoo has never been great at making social decisions under a time crunch. He gets up, shakes Yixing’s hand, gives him his name, and follows him, since clearly that is what he is expected to do. When he looks back over his shoulder as he follows Yixing through the door, Jongin is making his way back to his desk, his shoulders kind of slumped. 

Yixing runs through the same pre-massage routine that Chanyeol uses, but it’s so strange to be talking about his physical condition with someone who isn’t Chanyeol or his doctor that Kyungsoo finds himself rambling a little bit. When Yixing leaves him to get undressed, Kyungsoo gives himself a stern talking-to before stripping to his boxers and getting on the table. 

It’s undeniable that Yixing is just as good a masseuse as Chanyeol – if not better. He does this weird thing where he kneads Kyungsoo’s upper butt (over the blankets, thank you!) and then pushes his hip away into some kind of weird side bend, then digs his thumbs into Kyungsoo’s lower back. It feels divine. But Kyungsoo can’t help but keep thinking about how unhappy Jongin still seemed to be, and wondering what happened that both took Chanyeol away from this place and caused Jongin’s upset. After Yixing finishes, and leaves him to dress again, Kyungsoo’s body feels wonderful but his mind is in just as much of a knot as ever. It leaves him frustrated and unsatisfied. It only occurs to Kyungsoo as Yixing tells him to mind his posture at work and in dance class that the entire massage session was silent other than the background music. 

When Kyungsoo gets back into the lobby, he can tell that Jongin is still unhappy about something. He hopes it isn’t that Yixing subbed in for his session today, although his brain can’t see any logical reason why it would be. Unless he’s worried that Kyungsoo is some kind of secret asshole who would take that out on the staff? Kyungsoo hopes he doesn’t give that kind of impression. When he walks up to the desk (no sneaking up on Jongin this time), the smile Jongin gives him is a little more natural than before, but still smaller than Kyungsoo remembers. 

Okay, time to fall on his sword and see if that will make Jongin smile again. After scheduling his next session (and being sure to mention Chanyeol’s name), Kyungsoo offhandedly says, “So I checked out the studio you mentioned.”

Jongin’s face lights up like someone shoved a spotlight up his ass. “Yeah?” Kyungsoo doesn’t know why that makes him feel a little better, but it does. 

“Yeah, I’ve started going to class every now and then.” It’s not like he wants to be evasive with Jongin about exactly what classes he’s taking, it’s just… Kyungsoo is still pretty sure that Yunho is blowing smoke up his ass about his dance skills, and Jongin is very clearly both dedicated to dance and talented. And for some undefinable reason Kyungsoo just really doesn’t want Jongin to think less of him because he’s not a great dancer. “I saw a sign up that you were taking over one of the weekday classes, are you liking it?”

Jongin nods. “It’s definitely different than teaching the younger kids, or the contemporary style. But the best part of teaching is watching other people get better, get excited about dancing. That’s the same whether you teach kids or adults.”

That’s nice. Kyungsoo has never really thought about it that way. He’s still mulling over the concept when Jongin says, “Since you’re into dancing, some of my friends and I are planning on going out Friday night. Would you want to come?”

Kyungsoo loathes being in this position. On the one hand, no, he absolutely does _not_ want to go clubbing. Not with Jongin and a whole bunch of other unknown people, not with anyone. The literal perfect person for Kyungsoo could materialize right here and now and Kyungsoo would still be uninterested in clubbing with them. (Also, the literal perfect person would probably know better than to ask.) On the other hand…Kyungsoo doesn’t want to say no to Jongin. He doesn’t want to make Jongin feel bad, or rejected, and the happy and expectant way Jongin is looking at him seems to indicate that saying no would do just that. 

(And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of Kyungsoo wistfully wishes that he could go to a club and feel like he was attractive, feel like he belonged, be social and happy without having to worry. But mostly it seems like an awful lot of work for zero reward and a lot of negative effects.)

Jongin is starting to look hurt, and Kyungsoo realizes that he’s spent too much time trying to figure out how to gently say no, so he blurts out an, “Okay.” Jongin beams and hands over his phone, opening it up to the “new contact” screen. 

“Awesome! Give me your number and I’ll text you the details.”

Kyungsoo inputs his name and phone number, then hands the phone back. He’s regretting this already as he walks out the door. 

It’s only a matter of time until Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go listen to Lovebird! 
> 
> It might be a bit before I update this again - I've hit just a little bit of writer's block for the next couple scenes. Usually I've had a buffer chapter, but that's what this is. Sorry about the delay, and thank you so much to everyone who's left a comment or a kudos!
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a couple weeks.


	18. The Clamor and the Clangor

Kyungsoo has enough going on in the other areas of his life that he’s able to shove his impending doom in the form of clubbing to the back of his mind until his phone twangs at about 11:45 p.m. on Wednesday. It’s Jongin, who is apparently nocturnal (not that Kyungsoo really has a leg to stand on there, as he’s still awake himself), sending him the address of the club and instructions to meet at around 9:30 p.m. on Friday. Great.

Kyungsoo spends the rest of the week with low-grade tension rippling through his body at odd times. He does laundry and wonders what he should wear; he’s old and not particularly fashionable and doesn’t want to look like a fool. Is there an internet guide to clubbing? A dummies’ handbook? He washes the dishes and thinks that he rarely goes out drinking. Kyungsoo has never been much for alcohol. It’s not that he’s morally against it or anything; he just doesn’t think the majority of it tastes that great, and so he’d rather be doing something else. Is that lame? Will he be the group buzzkill?

Life in between these moments staggers on in what seems to Kyungsoo to be an endless, monotonous marathon, and even though the nerves stay, he starts to think that at least he’s got something to distract him coming up. He’s got someone who invited him out with his friends – who knows why, but at least it’s a good thing, right? Maybe this won’t be so bad. Hell, maybe he’ll walk out with a date. Kyungsoo hasn’t dated in a long time, and has never really had a hookup, but maybe that idea doesn’t sound so bad either. 

In a stroke of luck, Siwon takes his work home in a fit of temper on Friday after shouting that everyone around him is useless. Kyungsoo tries not to take it too much to heart and focus instead on the fact that he’s getting out of work on time, which has become a significant rarity. Now he has plenty of time to take the train home and get ready for the evening. 

The train ride is simultaneously too long and much, much too short. Kyungsoo hasn’t had nearly enough time to think about what he’s going to wear, or how he should style his hair, but also is there enough time for him to shower before he goes out? Nobody wants to hang out with someone who smells like a copier exploded next to him, or like he uses hand sanitizer for cologne. 

The train pulls to an unceremonious stop and Kyungsoo jumps up to exit, and then walks to his apartment as quickly as he can without looking foolish. Once safely inside, he hops in the shower and does his daily hygiene routine again as efficiently as possible, then trots over to his closet with a towel around his waist, hair still dripping. There’s no way for him to decide on a hair style until he decides what to wear, and he can’t dry his hair until he knows that he isn’t going to need to put wet product in it. 

Kyungsoo is not in possession of an overabundance of casual clothes. Money is tight, and he doesn’t like shopping for himself anyway, so the bulk of his wardrobe is work-related and therefore incredibly unsuitable for clubbing. This is not some weird-ass drama, and nobody goes clubbing in a suit and tie. At least, he doesn’t think so. 

That leaves him three options: black, charcoal, and grey. Great. Kyungsoo pulls out a pair of black jeans that (he thinks) makes his legs look good, and then flails around until there are a pile of dark-and-only-slightly-less-dark shirts at his feet. His watch beeps with his alarm, set for ten minutes before he needs to leave. 

Shit.

Kyungsoo pulls a shirt out of the pile at his feet, throws it on, and runs into the bathroom. It turns out to be a charcoal tee, more fitted than he usually wears, and he doesn’t think it looks half bad. His hair is dry now, but that’s fine; he slaps some gel into it and pushes it off his face. He throws a little eyeliner on, because fuck it, why the hell not, and bolts towards the door. Another five minutes debating over shoes (which is stupid, because he’s only got like four pairs), and then he’s out the door, wallet and phone tucked into his pockets and only a little bit late. 

He misses the train by thirty seconds, which means he needs to wait another ten minutes before the next one shows up. Maybe he can still be sort of on time, like if you were to round time to the nearest fifteen-minute mark. Kyungsoo finds himself bouncing on his feet a little, as though that will make the next train show up any faster. It doesn’t. 

Kyungsoo gets a seat on the train, which is nice, and then two stops later is reminded that it’s Friday night when a veritable horde of other people stampede onto the train. He offers his seat to a father with two young children, who shakes his head (in retrospect, Kyungsoo isn’t even sure how they would get to his seat through the crowd). The doors open and close several times before the train can leave, clearly at maximum capacity.

Kyungsoo is now even later than he was, and he feels like a giant asshole. There is no way this is even approximately on time, and he shoots an apologetic text to Jongin, letting him know how many stops away the train is as a rough ETA. Jongin replies with a thumbs-up emoji and Kyungsoo can’t tell whether it’s sarcastic or what else is going on, but this excursion has already been more stressful and embarrassing than he signed up for, and the regret is bitter on his tongue. 

Eventually, Kyungsoo is able to disembark at his stop, and walk the half-mile or so to the club. Jongin is there, but he’s alone. Kyungsoo quickly walks up and starts to apologise, but he’s cut off when a group of four _other people_ do the exact same thing. At least he wasn’t the only one?

They are mostly, like Jongin, younger than Kyungsoo. In fact, looking around as they straggle towards the line to get into the club, Kyungsoo may be the oldest person here. Cool. Nothing says “I’m having a good time” like everyone else wondering which geriatric ward you escaped from. While they wait to get in, Jongin introduces Kyungsoo to Taemin, Jimin, Timoteo, and Sungwoon. It’s apparently Taemin’s birthday today, and that’s why the group has headed out to the club. 

Kyungsoo feels kind of like he’s crashed Taemin’s party and Taemin is just too nice to say anything about it. The group includes him in their chatter, but Kyungsoo just doesn’t really have a whole lot to contribute to the conversation. In what he thinks of as an apology, he makes sure he’s in line before Taemin and pays his entry fee for him. When Taemin is given a wristband without having to pay, he looks adorably confused, and then his eyes go large and he turns to Kyungsoo like he’d covered Taemin’s college tuition or something instead of a 10,000-won cover charge. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” Kyungsoo can feel the bass of the club’s music in his bones, and Taemin has to shout to be heard over it, even in the entryway. Kyungsoo shrugs and smiles. “It’s your birthday.” 

They pass through into the club. The music is deafening, the lights flash quickly and randomly enough that Kyungsoo hopes nobody has a seizure. The floor is sticky with spilled drinks, and probably other things best not imagined. There’s a faint haze in the air, and whether it’s from a smoke machine somewhere or patrons with surreptitious cigarettes or some other weird phenomenon is a mystery. The others are talking, and he can’t hear a single word they are saying, their faces turning strange colors as the lights pulsate over the dance floor. 

The club has several rooms with dance floors and bars. Each one seems to have a different theme, although at this point Kyungsoo’s senses are starting to dull a little and everything just registers as “loud noise”. The six of them take a lap through all the different areas, until Taemin picks one he likes, and that’s where they stay. 

The dance floor is exactly as Kyungsoo would have expected it if anyone had asked him: hot, smelling slightly of mixed cologne and body odor, (still) inexplicably sticky, and full of people who seemed to have either already paired off or found a target to start pairing off with. Taemin, Jimin, and Timoteo melt seamlessly into the crowd, and Kyungsoo has no idea how it happened. Sungwoon makes a motion with his hand towards what Kyungsoo assumes is either a bar or the bathroom, and saunters off. That leaves him alone with Jongin, who is also starting to drift towards the dance floor, but looks back in a kind of concerned way at Kyungsoo. It’s almost how a mother duck would look at a duckling, like “come, tiny idiot, get in the pond”, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking embarrassing. 

Kyungsoo flounders after Jongin, and within a few minutes Sungwoon joins them, passing a shot to Kyungsoo and offering one to Jongin, who declines. Kyungsoo accepts his with a nod of thanks and swallows it, because fuck it, he’s already embarrassing himself so he might as well add drunken idiocy on top of it. Maybe he’s better at clubbing when he’s shitfaced. 

There are dancers (clothed, but skimpily) working poles on the corner of the dance floor nearest them, and Kyungsoo finds himself watching them – not necessarily for the intended purpose (sorry, ladies), but because they occasionally do tricks, and watching their strength is actually pretty cool. Jongin and Sungwoon have started dancing in a kind of aimless fashion with each other, and Kyungsoo makes a poor attempt to bob along with them. He’s pretty sure he is the most embarrassing person in this entire club, and he feels both guilty for being poor company and somehow disappointed in himself for not making a better showing. He breaks away and returns with his own set of shots for the group, who happily accept (even Jongin, this time). At least he’s contributing to the party in some small way. 

It’s like this dance floor is some mating ritual writ large, and Kyungsoo was never given an instruction manual. He watches the others find partners, wander off and dance, come back, and repeat, while he aimlessly shuffles around in perpetuity. If clubbing were a sport, Kyungsoo would apparently be warming the bench.

Despite Kyungsoo’s awkwardness and embarrassment, he’s surprised when Jongin pulls Taemin aside and whispers into his ear, gesturing towards the door. Taemin nods, wades back onto the dance floor, and reappears followed by Jimin and Timoteo. They make their way back to where Kyungsoo is standing next to Sungwoon, who looks a little bit green around the gills. Jongin walks back to Kyungsoo, and bends slightly to almost-yell in his ear. 

“We all have to work tomorrow, so Taemin asked me to let everyone know when it hit 12:30. I’m going to head out, and I think Jimin is too. Are you going to stay?”

Clearly some deity has paused in their relentless smiting of Kyungsoo for this brief, shining moment. “No, I’m ready to head back too.” He tries not to look too relieved. 

Timoteo decides to stay at the club, and waves a cheerful goodbye as everyone else moves through the exit and out onto the street. Taemin takes Jimin and an even greener Sungwoon back to his car to drive them home, and Kyungsoo spares a brief moment of pity for his upholstery. That leaves Kyungsoo and Jongin, and a slightly awkward silence after the auditory apocalypse that was the club. Kyungsoo runs his hand through his hair and then has a moment of realization that he’s almost certainly made it look incredibly ridiculous now. Screw this whole stupid night. He wants to take a shower and go the fuck to bed. 

Jongin smiles, and says, “You took the train here, right?” Kyungsoo nods. “I think we live in opposite directions, so we’ll take different trains, but at least we can walk back to the station together.” 

Like most social interactions involving Kyungsoo, the walk to the train station is without much conversation. It’s a fairly comfortable silence, though, and although Kyungsoo still feels a little out of his element he’s on much surer footing now that he’s recovered a little from the club experience. When they arrive at the station, Kyungsoo turns to the left and Jongin to the right. Kyungsoo turns around, not quite sure what the exit protocol is, and finds Jongin still looking at him.

“Thanks for the invitation,” says Kyungsoo kind of awkwardly. “I don’t know how much fun I was to be clubbing with, but it was nice to meet everyone.” Jongin smiles, and there’s a beat of silence that, to Kyungsoo, is exceptionally strained. Jongin doesn’t seem to notice. “I had a great time!” he says. “Thank you for coming out with us.” 

Kyungsoo’s brain is pretty much gone at this time, eaten away by the alcohol and the noise and the lights and the constant press of humanity around him. He makes a game attempt at a smile, waves at Jongin, says, “Sure. The train should be here soon, so I guess I better go. See you later,” and walks down the stairs to catch his train.

Later, in comfortable pajamas and sitting in bed, the smell of the club and the train washed off by a shower, Kyungsoo realizes that although he enjoyed everyone’s company, and Jongin was very sweet to invite him, he didn’t actually have that great a time. He falls asleep with the vague feeling that something in him is broken, or that he is so old now that he’s wasted any opportunity he might have had in his youth to learn how to be a real person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me as the posting schedule has been delayed. I hate to say it, but there's probably going to be another couple weeks before the next update because my trusty computer of 5 years absolutely bit it last week, so I've been scrambling to replace it and readjust. 
> 
> In other news, I think we're progressing pretty steadily towards the end, whatever that may be (this fic is already so different than I thought it would be when I started out)! Thank you for reading, and leaving comments or kudos if you did. They feed my neurotic need for validation. :)


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